Reign of Blood: The 105th Hunger Games(SYOT)
by ZJB3
Summary: The only thing Tyranna Vale hates more than making a mistake is having to admit that she's made one in the first place. Unfortunately for her, as well as the people around her and the 24 tributes slated to compete in this years Hunger Games, that's exactly what she has to do. The only question is, will anyone but her survive her blood soaked quest for atonement in the eyes Panem...
1. Raising the Bar

**Tyranna Vale (President of Panem)**

If there's one thing in this world that I've never been good at, it's admitting that I was wrong. The fact that said admission almost always comes coupled with my needing to apologize to the individual, or god forbid individuals, that tried to tell me I was wrong from the beginning only serves to enhance the already unimaginable levels of pain and embarrassment present anytime I'm forced to do something that has even the slightest bit of potential to wound my already incredibly fragile ego.

But unfortunately for me, and to a slightly greater extent my aforementioned ego, that's exactly what I'm about to do. The fact that I've got to do all of this in front of two of the maybe five or six people whose opinions of me, and to a lesser extent my decisions, I actually care about, only serves to make all of this that much harder for me to do than it was already going to be in the first place.

Hell the only possible saving grace that can possibly come out of any of this, and even then I feel like I'm reaching on this one just a little bit, is the fact that I'm not going to be the one bearing the brunt of the public backlash from all of this. No, that exceedingly unenviable task falls squarely on the shoulders of my Head Gamemaker Celine, or more specifically on her soon to be headless shoulders, so I guess I've got that incredibly small sliver of a silver lining to look forward to once all of this is over with.

Well….I guess it's time for me to get all of this unfortunate shit done and over with…..

"First off I'd like to take a second to thank you both for meeting with me at this exceedingly early and inconvenient hour, especially on such short notice. And since I know that both of you spent the majority of the last seventy-two hours working on the arena nonstop to make sure it's ready I'll do my best to keep this as short and sweet as I possibly can."

"It's not a problem ma'am. After all, my team and I serve at and are at your disposal Madam President."

"Be that as it may Celine, I really do appreciate the fact that both of you were willing, to meet me in the wee hours of the morning of what we all know is the first night either of you has slept in your own beds in the last few days."

We spend the next few minutes making small talk, most of which relates to the current status of this year's arena and the incredibly interesting sounding bug mutts my niece has been working on, but it's not long before I'm forced to bring an end to this very welcomed distraction and turn the conversation in the direction of the incredibly uncomfortable and sad business that forced me to call Celine and Centaura here in the first place….

"I'm happy to hear that things are going so well right now. I know that some members of your team had some very understandable reservations about this particular arena, not to mention the mutts, and I'm willing to admit that I was a little worried myself after listening to some of their more….Pointed concerns."

"In all honesty Madam President, I was a little concerned about just how….Audacious the plan was too. Fortunately for all of us, Gregor and I found an ingenious way to fix the vast majority of the tunnel support issues while Centaura pulled out all of the stops and ended up creating what I and everyone else on the team truly believes is her single most impressive crop of mutts to date."

"That's….That's fantastic news. And in the spirit of said good news, I'd like to give you both a small piece of my own.

"After consulting with some of my most important advisors, as well as a few of the late President Snow's, I've decided the time has come for me to officially revoke my previous embargo against tribute volunteers."

I give the two of them a couple of seconds to process and digest the absolutely massive bombshell of a decision that I just dropped on their heads. The fact that doing so gives me the chance to take a long, slow drink of scotch, which allows me to calm myself down as well as to steel my nerves for the very unfortunate second part of my announcement, is just a very small but welcome bonus.

But I also don't want her to think anything is wrong, so I quickly finish off my drink before quickly and inconspicuously pressing the small red button hidden on the underside of my desk to summon the guards that will end Celine's life all the while fighting back tears and fighting to keep the same slightly happy and satisfied looking smile on my face that I've had plastered on it since Celine and Centaura first stumbled and bumbled their sleepy selves into my office….

"Unfortunately, as I'm sure you both know by now, making this kind of decision, especially so close to the start of this year's Games, comes with some incredibly unfortunate and nasty repercussions."

It's at this moment, with my words hanging thick in the air while unadulterated terror starts to seep into the eyes, faces and hearts of my loving niece and lifelong best friend, that the pair of faceless, white armor clad riot officers storm into my office with their hands resting tensely on the butts of their pistols.

"And unfortunately for you Celine, you're the one that's going to have to bear the brunt of said repercussions.

"I'm sorry about this Celine, I really am. But even though I love you like you were my own sister, this is how things have to be.

"I'd like to thank you for your incredibly dedicated and selfless service to me and to your country. And I promise you that this is going to be as humane and painless as possible. Gentlemen….I need you to please escort Ms. Minos to the doctor waiting for her in the conference room down the hall. Gently, if you please…."

The next few minutes flash by in a haze as the guards carefully but proficiently stroll across the room and take a now visibly shaking and hysterical Celine by the arm and all but drag her kicking and screaming from the room, pausing just long enough for me to lay one last soft and loving kiss on the tear stained cheek on the only real friend I've ever had before dragging her out of my life for the last time. And once she's gone I take a couple of seconds to collect myself before turning my attention back to a visibly shaken Centaura and looking deep into her beautiful green eyes, the same green eyes I and every other female in our family is famous for, before saying to her the words I'd hoped to have the chance to say to her. Just under different circumstances.

"Centaura Vale, it's with great sadness but boundless hope and optimism for the future that I, President Tyranna Vale, officially appoint you to the incredibly illustrious position of Head Gamemaker. Effective immediately. Congratulations…."

"I….You….Why did you…How….How could you kill Celine?"

"Come on Centaura, you're old enough to know that this is exactly how all of this really works. I killed Celine, my best friend, because someone had to pay the price for my incredibly stupid and short sighted mistake.

"Unfortunately for her, she was the only one other than you that makes a believable scapegoat.

"And that means it was either kill you, my loving niece, my own flesh and blood, or my best friend and an incredibly talented and accomplished Head Gamemaker. I decided to preserve what little of our family is left, and give you the chance to turn things around enough to secure my position and make the inevitable transition from me to you all the more palpable to the people of Panem.

"So please, for the love of all things, don't make me regret doing so…."

"I….I won't….I promise you that I won't let you down….Madam President."

"Good.

"Now I'd advise you to go back to your apartment and get some sleep. You've got a big first day ahead of you and I expect the arena for this year's games to be everything you and Celine were telling me that it would be..."

* * *

 **A/N: Hello everyone, and welcome to my sixth SYOT, Reign of Blood: The One Hundred and Fifth Hunger Games! Now as I've said in my previous stories, this is a direct continuation of my first 5 stories but having read them isn't necessary as I'll explain everything important over the next couple of chapters. However, I think that they're pretty good stories so you should read them anyway :D**

 **Now for those of you that have read my other stories, please note that the volunteering moratorium from the last 2 stories is gone so feel free to submit volunteers again if you'd like :)**

 **Other than that the forum for submissions in on my profile along with a couple of basic guidelines for submitting that help make it easier for me to bring your tribute to life in as effective and awesome a way as possible :)**

 **Submissions are now open and will remain open until September 8th. Also, this is not a first come first serve type of story, I'll be picking the best submissions to fill the slots out, but no more than 2 from any individual submitter, so feel free to submit as many tributes as you'd like until the deadline.**

 **Other than that please let me know if you have any questions as I'd be happy to answer them. Thank you for giving my new story a look and I hope that you'll send in a tribute and take this amazing journey into a blood soaked new world with me :D**


	2. Turning the World Upside Down

**Kimma Reece(District 9 Mentor and Victor of the 103rd Hunger Games)**

"Are you ok Kimma? You seem kind of quiet and distant today."

"I'm fine Rook. I'm just….I'm just a little nervous about tonight's announcement is all."'

"Why would you be nervous about something like that Kimma?"

I don't….I honestly don't know how in the world I'm supposed to answer that question. I mean, how am I supposed to explain to someone like Rook, who's managed to live as normal and untainted a life as anyone possibly can, that I'm nervous because the announcement is more than likely going to have a major impact on the type of tributes I'm going to be responsible for training to kill each other in the Capitol? How am I supposed to explain to him that my JOB, the same job that got the two of us and my parents, his aunt, and uncle, off the streets and into a home of our own is to train kinds that are just a little bit older than he is to slaughter each other like animals?

"It's….It's kind of hard to explain right now Rook."

"You could try. I'm super smart and I understand a lot more than you think I do Kimma. I really do."

"I know you do Rook. But this….This just isn't the kind of thing that I think you'd be able to understand. And even if you are able to understand it, I'm not sure that I want to know that you do. Does that make sense little guy?"

"I guess so, but I still wish you would try to explain it to me."

"Tell you what big guy, if you promise me that you'll listen to your aunt and uncle while I'm in the Capitol, then I'll do my best to explain everything to you when I get back from the Capitol in a couple of weeks. Deal?"

"Hmmm….Help me finish the tree house tonight before we go to bed and you've got a deal Kimma."

I know that I shouldn't, but I can't help but crack a small but playful smile at Rook's incredibly bold attempt to squeeze everything he can out of me. After that I playfully ruffle his incredibly shaggy and unruly honey colored hair, which is just annoying enough to him at this age to illicit a small put equally playful groan, before shooing him out of the house just seconds before my parents return from giving my former mentor, and current mentoring partner Oatis, his first look at the very same treehouse that Rook all but blackmailed me into helping him finish building.

"That's a mighty fine looking tree house, Mr. Reece, mighty fine."

"Well, I can't take all of the credit for building it, or even designing it for that matter. No all of that credit goes to Kimma and Rook."

"Well, regardless it's still an absolutely beautiful little project. And if you're not too busy next summer Kimma I'd be thrilled if you and Rook could come and build me one too."

We all share a good laugh at Oatis's little joke, at least I think it was a joke, but that little moment of humor doesn't last for very long. Because within a couple of seconds of said joke slipping past his lips Oatis, as well as everyone in the room, is forced to stop laughing and pay attention as the Anthem of Panem begins to ring out from every nook and cranny of the house just seconds before the holo projector in the living room flashes to life and treats all of us to a close up view of a very stern and agitated looking President Vale.

" _Good evening Panem, as I'm sure all of you know by now, my name is President Tyranna Vale and it is my extreme pleasure and unimaginable privilege to be addressing each and every one of you tonight from the very heart of our great nation, the Capitol._

" _Now I'm sure all of you are wondering just what it is I have to say that's so important I'd be willing to risk overshadowing this year's Hunger Games by announcing it so close to tomorrow's reapings, which as we all know are the official start of said games. Well, my friends, you can wonder no more because it's finally time for me to reveal to you the big announcement._

" _Effective immediately, I, President Tyranna Vale, am rescinding my previous ban on volunteering for the annual Hunger Games. This means that starting with tomorrow reapings and continuing until the end of time, anyone and everyone that is currently eligible to do so, will be allowed to volunteer for the Hunger Games just as they did before I enacted the temporary ban on said action two years earlier._

" _Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favor….."_

It takes me a couple of minutes to fully process what I just heard, and by the time I do Oatis is staring at me with an upset and somber looked etched on his normally upbeat and happy looking face.

"Would you please excuse us for a second Mr. and Mrs. Reece? I need to speak with my partner for a couple of seconds."

The next thirty or so seconds seem to inch by in slow motion as my parents quickly trade worried looks with one another before turning their gazes in my direction and showering me with a downpour of sad and remorseful glances before my dad finally nods his head and leads my mom out of the room, and eventually out of the house altogether, leaving Oatis and I alone in what has very quickly become a very cramped and tension filled room.

"If you have any questions about what you just heard, this is the time for you to start asking them Kimma."

"What does this mean for us? For our future tributes? What does it mean for the Games as a whole?"

"Well, it really doesn't mean anything for the two of us, or our future tributes for that matter. I mean, the odds of us getting a volunteer now are the same as they were before the President's announcement, zero. And I'm willing to bet the same will ring true in most of the other districts, at least for this year, as none of the tributes that might have been interested in volunteering in a normal year are going to be ready to do so with half a day of notice."

"What about the Games as a whole?"

"Well, that's where it gets just a bit more tricky. For this year the announcement might actually be a boon for us and some of the other outer districts because the Career Districts might not have their volunteers lined up for this year. But next year, next year things will go back to normal and you'll have to learn the same hard lesson I did after I won my games."

"And what lesson is that?"

"How to live with yourself when you know that every year you're going to have to throw a couple of untrained kids into the arena with about half a dozen trained killers who think competing in the Hunger Games is an honor and not a punishment. Or I guess more poetically, how to live with yourself when the world's been turned upside down…."

* * *

 **A/N: Hey, everyone, this is just a little update to keep the story moving, as well as at the top of the list so I can get more submissions :p And as you can see the President has made the change official and volunteers are once again allowed in the Hunger Games.**

 **At this point, I currently have 11 submissions and the deadline is still the 8th of September and I need pretty much anything and everything you can possibly imagine in a tribute. So go ahead and pull the form off of my profile and send them my way so we can take this amazing journey into the arena together :D**


	3. Facing the Future Alone

**Quanta Bomm (District 3 Mentor and Victor of the 103rd Hunger Games)**

I always thought that it was kind of pointless for Zapp to continually insists that the two of us get together at some point the day before the reaping to talk strategy, but now I sort of understand why he did. Not only that, but I also realize just how important it really is for the two of us, and soon hopefully more, to get together and talk about not just the Reaping, or even the reaping and the upcoming Games, but all of the little things that accompany them.

The fact that it took something as seismically monumental and unforeseen as the President revoking her twelve-year ban on volunteering after just two years for me to do so, is neither here nor there. And as luck would have it, at least as far as I'm concerned anyway, the president's decision, and any and all of the potential fallout therein, is exactly what Zapp and I have spent the better part of the last hour since she made said announcement talking about.

"You know what Zapp, a small part of me is not only glad that all of this happened, but that it happened so much earlier than I was expecting it to. I mean, I know that all of that probably sounds like it's just a little bit on the crazy side, but it's true.

"I just….I just sort of hoped that I'd have a little more time to prepare myself mentally and emotionally for such a monumental shift in how I'm supposed to do my job."

"Well if you're crazy Quanta than so am I; because I know exactly how you feel. But instead of hoping for more time to prepare myself mentally and emotionally for things to go back to normal I was hoping I'd have just a bit more time to prepare you for that, as well as the monumental task of mentoring by yourself, before father time caught up with me and my illness forced me to step aside for good."

"What are you….What are you talking about Zapp? What illness?"

It takes Zapp all of three or four seconds to realize that he just said something he didn't really mean to say, and for a fraction of a second I honestly think that he might be trying to think of a way to walk it back without actually having to address what he just said. But to his credit, that's not what he ends up deciding to do. And even though he does spend the better part of the next minute or so trying to figure out just how he can best go about explaining something he obviously doesn't want to explain, a fact that is made abundantly clear by the incredibly uncomfortable look etched on his normally inquisitive and grandfatherly face, he does eventually settle on a way to do so before leaning in and finally answering my question.

"I was obviously hoping to have this conversation with you under very different circumstances, but seeing as I went and let the cat out of the bag already I guess that we might as well go ahead and have it now.

"I….I have an advanced form of pancreatic cancer. The doctors….The doctors in the Capitol diagnosed me while we were in the Capitol for your Victory Tour, and ever since then I've been going back twice a month for treatment."

I don't….I don't know how I'm supposed to respond to all of this. I mean, what in the world could I possibly say at a moment like this that's not going to come across as condescending or hollow?

"Why did you….Why did you keep this from me?"

"Well, I'd like to tell you it was because I didn't want to burden you with something that no one, not even the best and brightest in the Capitol, had the ability to fix, but we both know that would be a lie.

"In reality, the only reason I didn't tell you the second I found out is I didn't think it would matter. The doctors said I'd be, the word they used was normal, for another five to six years at least. So I sort of figured that would be more than enough time for me to train you up right without the looming specter of my slow but inevitable demise hanging over both of our heads."

"So then what….What changed? If you didn't want to or plan on telling me any of this until later, then why are you doing it now?"

A part of me knows that I already know the answer to that question, but I know that I can't afford to let the fact that I probably know the answer stop me from asking the question. So that's exactly what I force myself to do, and sure enough, the look of pure despair and regret that seems to be seeping out of every pore of Zapp's body as he adjusts himself in his chair and takes my hands in his and leans in to answer my question is more than enough proof that I'm not only right about what the answer is, but that I may not have truly grasped just how bad said answer actually is.

"Do you remember me saying that I wasn't feeling well before holding up in my house for the better part of a week to recover a month or so ago?"

"I….Yes…."

"Well I wasn't really hold up in my house trying to recover, I was in the Capitol undergoing tests to try to figure out what was wrong with me."

Up until now, I've somehow found a way not to break down and start crying, but as he holds my trembling hands in his, I feel my resistance start to crumble. And as he takes a deep breath and prepares to give me the only answer he can possibly give, as well as the only answer I genuinely don't want him to have to give, the first few droplets of hot, salt filled tears slip past my defenses and stream down my cheeks before softly dripping onto my friend and former mentors wrinkled hands.

"What did they...What did the tests say?"

"The tests said that my cancer was advancing so rapidly and that it would probably only take a couple of weeks for it to kill me. And it was with that in mind that they, advised, me not to mentor this year. They said that not only would the stress of doing so almost certainly kill me; but that if I got on that train with you there was no way I'd ever see District Three again..."

At first I'm not sure that I actually heard Zapp say what he said, or more specifically I'm not sure I want to believe that I heard Zapp say what he just said, but after a couple of seconds, during which my previously noticeable but marginally under control crying exploded into a full on episode, I'm forced to accept the truth. Zapp is going to die, and there's nothing in the world I can do about it. And to make matters worse, as if losing the only person in the world that even remotely understands the hell that I and every other tribute that ever has or ever will set foot in the arena has gone through needs help being worse than it already is, he's being taken away from me just when I need him the most. I mean, how am I and our future tributes supposed to survive the inevitable tsunami of glory starved and blood thirsty career volunteers the President's announcement is about to unleash on Panem without Zapp?

* * *

 **A/N: Hey everyone, I just wanted to touch base and let everyone know that we not only continue to inch ever closer towards the start of the reapings, as well as the submission deadline of September 8th, but that we're doing so at full speed. And what better way to do that then by touching base with all of you as well as with one of our previous victors? And as you can see, Quanta is in for what might be the roughest of rides as she tries to prepare not only herself, but a pair of tributes for the incredibly daunting task of facing an honest to god career without her own mentor Zapp.**

 **Also, and I hate to have to admit this, but it was brought to my attention that I forgot to take the no volunteers part out of my submitting guidelines so I wanted to take a second to not only thank the individual that brought said oversight to my attention, but also to reiterate to everyone that yes, volunteering is allowed once again in this universe. At this point, I've already gotten 14 official submissions and we have just a little over 2 weeks until the deadline which I hope will bring many more for me to fall in love with :D**

 **So with that in mind please review the chapter and let me know what you think, then run over to my profile and get the submission form so you can send me a tribute or two as we take yet another amazing adventure into the arena together :D**


	4. Asking the Big Questions

**Joyce Davidson (District 4 Mentor and Victor of the 101st Hunger Games)**

Just when I thought there was no possible way today could get any stranger than it already was, Allure decided that she just had to go and pull a fast one on me by finding a way to cook up this incredibly unexpected and romantic little dinner for the two of us. The fact that she found the time to do all of this while I was doing everything in my power to drive myself absolutely bonkers, in what I now realize was nothing more than a completely and utterly futile attempt to keep the President's unexpected little announcement from turning tomorrow's reaping into a bigger clusterfuck than I already think it will be, is nothing short of a miracle. Of course, to me, it's just one more little reminder about just how special and amazing my girlfriend truly is.

"Are you….Are you ok Joyce?"

"Of course I am babe. I was just….I was just thinking about how lucky I am to have such an absolutely wonderful and amazing woman like you in my life."

"Oh is that all? And here I thought you might actually be thinking about something a little bit more important. Like just how wild and out of control tomorrow might get if we end up having even half as many kids trying to volunteer for the Games as Finnick and Phox think we will."

I know she meant that as a joke, or at least I think that's what she meant it to be. Unfortunately for me, that's not the way I end up taking it and within a few seconds, I'm doing everything within my power to stop myself from bursting into tears over what the logical part of me knows full well was nothing more than an incredibly lame and corny attempt at humor by Allure. But the emotional and illogical part of me doesn't seem to care about any of that, and even though I try anything and everything I can think of to keep myself from doing so, it only takes a couple of seconds for my already shaky composure to crumble as a small but steady stream of tears starts to dribble out of my eyes and down my smooth, bronze kissed cheeks.

And even though I do my best to hide my tears, or barring that to make them look like they were brought on by the sheer hilarity of her joke, it takes Allure all of half a second to realize what's going on. And within seconds, literally no more than half the time it takes me to blink under normal circumstances, she's standing behind my chair and wrapping her arms around me before planting a series of small and obviously apologetic kisses on my neck before doing everything she can to figure out just what it was that she did to set me off like this….

"I'm so, so sorry baby. I should have….I should have realized that this wasn't the best time for me to start making jokes like that. Not after the incredibly hectic and unpredictable day you've had."

"It's not….It's not your fault babe. I'm just….I'm just still trying to process everything that's going on and my inability to do so has my brain screaming at me and my stomach tied in all sorts of knots."

"I know baby. And I know that all of this is hard for you, especially the thought of having to work with and mentor volunteers that insist that they know exactly what they're doing without knowing for sure that they do."

"That's not….That's not what I'm upset or worried about Allure. I wish it was, because it would be a whole lot easier for me to deal with all of this if it was."

"Then what is it, Joyce. You know that you can tell me anything babe, so please, do so. Let me help you with whatever it is that's hurting you. Please…."

"That's just it Allure I don't….I don't know how I'm supposed to explain what's wrong because I don't actually know what's wrong. I mean, my emotions are all over the place, my stomach is nothing short of an unmitigated disaster, and that's….That's just not how this is supposed to work."

It's in this moment, when I'm doing everything I can to keep myself composed while bearing my soul to the woman I love, that Allure does the one thing I never expected her to do. She starts giggling…..And even though I know that I should be pissed, I can't seem to bring myself to be anything other than dumbstruck.

"This may….This may come as a bit of a shock to you Joyce, but being a nervous wreck, especially the night before the reaping, is kind of a prerequisite for being a mentor. Because despite what it may look like, or what you may think, all of us, myself included, are just as nervous and unsettled about all of this as you are."

I think it's safe to say that I'm more than a little surprised by Allure's admission, but I can't for the life of me figure out how to express said surprise in a way that's even remotely understandable. Instead, I force myself to collect my increasingly jumbled thoughts just long enough to ask the only question I can formulate at this particular moment in time.

"Then how….How come all of you always seem to be so calm and collected? Especially at this time of year?"

"By finding something, or more often than not someone, that we can rely on to support us. For Finnick those someones are Annie and their son, for most of the others it's the career academy, and for me….Well, for me it's you. You're the person that keeps me grounded Joyce, the one that keeps me calm and sane in this incredibly crazy and insane world."

"I didn't….I didn't realize how important I was to you. I mean, I know that you're the most important person in my life, but I didn't know that I was the most important person in yours."

"Of course you are Joyce. I love you, that's why I went through all of this trouble to make sure tonight was as close to perfect as I could possibly make it."

"I….I love you to Allure."

"Good. That means this next question should be an easy one for you to answer…."

I"m not sure what she means, at least not at first. But after an incredibly tense couple of seconds, during which Allure spends most of her time looking for something in her pocket, Allure drops to one knee and gently opens a small, emerald colored box with the most beautiful, sapphire gem studded ring in the middle of it before asking me the most important question I've ever been asked.

"Joyce Davidson….Will you….Will you marry me….?"

* * *

 **A/N: Hey everyone, we're just one week away from the submission deadline so I decided to pop in and drop another fun little update so I could let everyone know where we stand on the submission side of things, and because I love Joyce and Allure's relationship and I wanted to make sure they get their happily ever after, with 7 days to go.**

 **So at this point, I currently have 19 submissions, 18 of which are single submissions to a district, so there's still plenty of room for more amazing tributes if you haven't submitted one yet. For those of you who've already submitted, thank you so much for doing so, and for those that are still working on their submissions, I eagerly look forward to meeting them when you finally send them in :)**

 **But enough about that, we'll have plenty of time to go over all of that next week when we get our first looks at Verity, my first victor, and my most recent victor James, when I introduce this year's batch of tributes :) So keep being your awesome selves and read and review as you prepare yourselves for yet another adventure in this, our One Hundred and Fifth Hunger Games!**


	5. Chaos Reigns

**Verity Sangster (District 1 Mentor and Victor of the 100th Hunger Games)**

"Come on dad, we've been at this for hours and we're still no closer to finding an answer now than we were when we started."

"And do you know why that is Concord?"

"Because you've got us trying to come up with a plan to stop one or two un or underprepared idiots from volunteering that is, at best, a one in a million long shot to actually work and at worst, a complete and total waste of all of our time and energy?"

"Of course not you smart-ass. It's because you kids aren't trying hard enough to come up with a plan that's even the least bit realistic, let alone viable."

I hate it when my dad gets like this, especially when he's around my older brothers. I mean seriously, he's bad enough on his own, but when he's around Justice and Concord he's ten times worse. The fact that the three of them, along with my mom and me, have been locked in his personal study for the better part of the last six and a half hours trying to come up with a plan that satisfies his insane desire to regain at least some semblance of control over tomorrow's suddenly unpredictable and out of control reaping.

Unfortunately for him, and to a greater extent the rest of us, the only thing any of us has been able to come up with so far is to let whatever it is that's going to happen, just happen. But seeing as the only thing my dad hates more than something that could possibly be a threat to his all important family legacy, is not being able to at least pretend that he's got some sort of control over said thing.

And that means the five of us are going to remain stuck in this room until my dad finally drinks himself under the table, one of my brothers, more specifically Concord, finally loses his cool and snaps, or more than likely some god awful combination of the two. But seeing as my dad drinks liquor like a fish drinks water, and the only other way I can even remotely imagine us getting out of here is if we just sit here and twiddle our thumbs until it's time for us to leave for the reaping, I'm starting to hope that at least one of my brothers decides to lose his cool sooner rather than later.

"VERITY?! FOR THE LOVE OF GOD STOP DAYDREAMING AND PAY ATTENTION TO ME WHEN I'M TALKING TO YOU!"

"I wasn't daydreaming dad. I was just…."

"You know what Verity, you can go ahead and save your excuses for someone that actually gives a damn. Because right now, I need you to go ahead and pull your head out of your ass long enough to help your mom and me come up with a plan since your brothers seem to be dead set on being their normal unhelpful little shit head selves!"

It's only after hearing him say this that I finally get around to noticing that my parents are the only other people still in the room with me. Which means at some point after I zoned out and starting hoping that one of my brothers would finally get around to pushing dad over the edge, he actually went over the edge. And that means I not only missed the blow-up, which is a crying shame in of itself, but I also missed what was most likely going to be my one chance to escape from this, planning session from hell.

"Shit…."

"Did you say something Verity?"

"It's not….It's not important dad. I was just….Blowing off a little steam at not being able to figure this crap out and answer your question.

"I mean, it's going to be hard enough for Velvet and I to mentor as it is, so the last thing I need hanging over my head is knowing that I disappointed you before leaving for the Capitol…."

"Well, you don't have to worry about that first part sweet heart."

I know for a fact that nothing good can possibly come from any of the zillion or so questions my dad's last statement sent zipping into the front of my mind. In fact, I'm almost positive that I know just which one of the litany of absolutely terrible things his statement could possibly be referring to is actually referring to. But I'm not going to let that stop me from asking so I can find out for sure.

"And um….Why is….Why is that dad?"

"Because Velvet isn't going to the Capitol with you this year. I am…."

"I see…..And did you….Did you go over this with the other victors?"

"Of course I did sweetheart. And while your brothers and Velvet weren't exactly thrilled about it, Cashmere and Gloss thought it was an exceptional idea for one of the more, experienced mentors to tag along this year. Provided it didn't have to be one of them that went to the Capitol of course."

Well, I guess that explains where the two of them went...

"And being the incredibly dedicated and…..Selfless, man that you are…."

"I told them that I would be more than happy to go myself. After all, there's no way for me to know just how many more opportunities to mentor alongside my baby girl that I'm going to get."

I wish I could believe that, I really do. But I know better. No this is my dad's only way to insure that he has the ability to impact the games, or more specifically any unexpected or unwanted volunteers we may end up saddled with, in any sort of meaningful. And he's taking it.

I just hope things turn out better than they did the last time the two of us mentored together. Because I'm not sure I can take another year of being lorded over and bossed around by my dad only to end up getting saddled with all of the failure and none of the glory….

"That sounds great dad. Does that mean that we're done here or did you have more you wanted to go over before I pass out for a little pre-reaping power blackout…?"

* * *

 **A/N: Hey, everyone, it's almost time for us to start the main story and I'm sure you're all as excited about this as I am. I mean, who wouldn't be excited about something as fun and exciting as starting yet another amazing trip into the heart of Panem for something as unique and awesome as the Hunger Games?!**

 **Of course, this means we need to have a full list of tributes and we're currently sitting at 25 total submissions, but we don't have any for the D12 Girl or the D6 Girl. So if you're still working on your submission that's fine, but if not and you're interested in submitting keep those 2 districts in mind as a lack of submissions obviously raises your chances of getting your tribute into the story.**

 **But I, and if you're feeling generous all of you reading along with me, can worry about all of those pesky little deadlines and what, not on Saturday morning at 12 a.m. PST. For now, I'm much more interested in hearing what you think of the story so far and Verity's chapter in particular, so please review and let me know and I'll look forward to seeing all of your smiling faces on Sunday or Monday when the tribute list is finally revealed!**


	6. You Reap What You Sow

**James Wild (District 10 Mentor and Victor of the 104th Hunger Games)**

A small part of me was hoping that today would never actually come. That I would lay down in my bed the night before the reaping and fall into some sort of magic-induced super sleep that could only be broken once the reaping, along with all of the incredibly forced and unnecessary pomp and splendor that accompanies it, was nothing more than a distant memory. But I know that's not how the real world works, and even if magic was real, there's no way in heck that anyone with the power and ability to command it would even consider using it to help a monster like me avoid reaping what I've sown.

No, I'm just going to have to buck up and find a way to accept that this, as distasteful and unwanted as it may be, is what I deserve to suffer through for winning the Hunger Games. So that's exactly what I'm going to do, and seeing as the only way for me to actually do so is to get my butt out of bed and get myself ready for my first ever reaping as a mentor, I guess it's time for me to stop putting it off and get to work.

So I do, and after dragging my very reluctant self out of bed I slowly make my way into the master bathroom and haul my incredibly unwilling body into the incredibly warm and inviting confines of an almost scorchingly hot shower. And that's where I end up spending the better part of the next thirty or so minutes, doing everything I can possibly think of to pump myself up mentally for today's reaping before finally forcing myself to get out and dry off just seconds before my twin sister comes barging into my bathroom with a slightly annoyed look plastered on her face.

"Hey, sleeping beauty, your friends Paige and Wren are here. They're waiting for you downstairs."

"What in the heck are they doing here this early?"

"What do you think I am little brother, your freaking secretary? You need to go ahead and get your butt dressed so you can walk your happy self down stairs and ask them yourself."

I hate it when my sister gets like this, especially when she decides to work in the incredibly annoying fact that I was born all of three minutes after she was, but I know for a fact that I really can't afford to get dragged into the middle of that argument again, at least not at this particular moment in time. So as hard as it is for me to do so, I force myself not to rise to her bait and instead of shooting back with the first stupid comment that pops into my head I offer up a simple nod before motioning for her to leave the room so I can finish getting ready.

After that, it takes me all of five minutes to finish drying off and throw on the incredibly stiff and scratchy suite that our Escort Sparkle picked out for me to wear before giving myself a quick once over in my room's full-length mirror. And once I'm satisfied that I look as good as I could possibly hope to look in this bright green wool monkey suite, I take a second to collect myself as best as I can before strolling as confidently as I can out of my bedroom door and starting down the central stairs with as normal and ready a look on my face as I can possibly muster.

I just hope I can find a way to actually be as cool and confident in reality as I'm trying to pretend that I am right now….

* * *

 **A/N: So here we are, we've finally gotten through all of the boring stuff and that means it's time to reveal the tribute list so we can start moving towards the always fun and entertaining Reapings!**

 **And so, without further ado, here's the long awaited tribute list for the 105th Hunger Games!**

 **Reign of Blood Tribute List:**

 **District 1 Female:**

Isabelle Price-18(IVolunteerAsAuthor)

 **District 1 Male:**

Bijou Devon-17(Mewruru)

 **District 2 Female:**

Elysium "Tartarus" Katsaros-17(CelticGames4)

 **District 2 Male:**

Bacchus Jaguar-18(Platrium)

 **District 3 Female:**

Iridessa "Dessa" Parks-14(AmericanPi)

 **District 3 Male:**

Joss Stellan-16(HogwartsDreamer113)

 **District 4 Female:**

Pearl Caspian-16(POMForever)

 **District 4 Male:**

Sandor Torrent-16(platypus27)

 **District 5 Female:**

Nira Valli-18(LokiThisIsMadness)

 **District 5 Male:**

Cliff Roseo-17(platypus27)

 **District 6 Female:**

Reid Stitchell-16(Jayfish)

 **District 6 Male:**

Axel Bishop-16(maddyodair)

 **District 7 Female:**

Julie van Vigne-12(Platrium)

 **District 7 Male:**

Ives Dusket-18(Glassgift)

 **District 8 Female:**

Annalee Tack-15(FabulousAbby)

 **District 8 Male:**

Kylon "Kyle" Warwick-17(Thorn5502)

 **District 9 Female:**

Saralee Spelt-12(goldie031)

 **District 9 Male:**

Quills Danelhayr-17(MessyModgePodge)

 **District 10 Female:**

Piper Anneliese Lark-16(Mistycharming)

 **District 10 Male:**

Mazeem "Maze" Law-14(FronTierBrain)

 **District 11 Female:**

Lexy Bloom-17(AmericanPi)

 **District 11 Male:**

Euonymus "Euni" Flax-18(DaughterOfTigris)

 **District 12 Female:**

Cora Arrowood-16(radnewsbarrett)

 **District 12 Male:**

Ash Colton-18(Tribute Scott)

 **So as you can see we're in for an awesome ride, albeit a ride that's just a little bit on the older side but I think that'll make it that much more enjoyable and wild a ride, that I can't wait to take with each and every one of you :)**

 **So as always please review and let me know what you think of this final prologue chapter, as well as the list as a whole, and I'll look forward to seeing all of your smiling faces at the District 1 Reaping :D**


	7. Beautiful, Wonderful Chaos(D1 Reaping)

**Savera Spottiswoode (District 1 Escort)**

I can't believe how excited and nervous I am about hosting today's reaping. That's not to say this is the first time I've ever been excited about hosting the reaping, because that would be nothing short of a bald-faced lie, and it's obviously not the first time I've ever been nervous about a reaping either. Heck, this isn't even the first time I've been both excited and nervous about the exact same reaping at the exact same time, my very first reaping as an escort holds that particular distinction as it was by far the single most exciting, yet somehow stomach-churningly nerve-wracking moment of my entire life. But even it, in all of it's amazing glory, didn't have the same magically unpredictable feeling about it as today's reaping does.

I mean, for the first time in my nearly twenty year career as an escort, I can safely say that I honestly have no idea what kind of tributes I'm going to end up escorting to this year's games. In the past I've had the privilege of escorting pair after pair of super confident and prepared careers, and for the last 2 years I've escorted twin pairs of relatively unprepared and inexperienced novices, but I've never had the chance to do both at the same time. And if I'm being completely and totally honest with myself, which I almost always am, the simple fact that I could end up with two tributes that are polar opposites of each other, for what I'm almost positive would be the first time in my entire career, is probably the number one reason I'm so excited about today.

And fortunately for me, or more specifically the near euphoric levels of enjoyment I've been doing my absolute best to enjoy as thoroughly as I possibly can, I'm about to be given the chance to do so while basking in the joyous adulation of the always happy and enthusiastic people of District One. Because no sooner have I started to once again slip into the incredibly warm and welcoming embrace of my own giddy thoughts, I find myself being serenaded by the incredibly soft and soothing sound of bells ringing in my left ear that can only mean one thing. The Capitol production team that's broadcasting the reaping is almost ready for me to make my grand entrance.

So that's what I start getting myself ready to do, and after giving myself what I'm pretty sure is the single quickest and most half-assed once over I've ever done in the reflection of the ornately carved and immaculately polished marble main doors, during which I still manage to notice no fewer than three outfit flaws and the embarrassingly imperfect blending of my makeup, before forcing myself to ignore everything I just noticed and focus on the task at hand. And through what I can only assume is some divine intervention, I manage to find a way to do so mere seconds before the massive the ringing of the bells fades into oblivion and the massive marble double doors I'm standing near begin to flutter open and I'm engulfed in not only the incredible warmth of the midday sun as well as the welcoming words of District One's mayor.

"But I'm sure no one is really all that interested in listening to me ramble on about the past, not when we have such a bright and welcoming future to look forward to.

"And so, without further ado, it's my pleasure to welcome back one of the most accomplished and celebrated escorts in Hunger Games history, the incredibly refined and exceedingly lovely, Savera Spottiswoode!"

"Thank you very much for your kind words Mr. Mayor. And as always, it is my unmatched privilege to serve all of you as your Capitol escort for this year's Hunger Games.

"Now, I'm sure all of you are just as eager as I am to find out which exceptionally lucky young man and exceedingly fortunate young woman are going to be representing your incredibly illustrious district in this year's games, so I think it's past time we got around to doing just that.

"And as I'm sure you all know by now, tradition dictates that we start off this year's festivities with the selection of our newest District One Titanesses!"

I let my words hang in the air just long enough for their meaning to fully permeate the crowd, and to give any girls in the crowd that might still be on the fence about volunteering a few more seconds to make up their minds, before flashing my most playfully alluring grin at the nearest camera and sauntering over to the bright pink crystal reaping ball that's currently stuffed to the brim with soft yellow slips of paper. And once I'm safely in front of the ball I pause for a fraction of a second, offer up a mischievously playful wink to all of the girls currently watching my every move with baited breath, before playfully thrusting my perfectly manicured hand into the center of the ball and snatching up the first slip of paper my fingers grace and tearing it out of the ball with a showy flourish.

"And it looks like the name of said Titanesses is…..Sa…."

I don't get a chance to finish reading the name, not that the name on the paper really matters. Because within a nanosecond of my getting the first two letters out of my mouth a yelp of surprise explodes from somewhere near the back of the eighteen-year-old girl's section just seconds before an incredibly attractive girl of moderate height slips under the rope divider and screams out in a clear and commanding voice…..

"I VOLUNTEER AS TRIBUTE!"

I think it's safe to say that the rather….abrupt manner in which my newest tribute volunteered has taken more than a few people by surprise. But after the initial shock of just how….for lack of a better term rude, she was in her haste to volunteer starts to wear off I, and everyone else in the District, gets out first chance to get a real good look at the young woman that quite literally ran over one of her peers in order to ensure she was able to take her rightful place as this district's newest Titanesses. And if my first impression of her is any indication, she's going to be one hell of a competitor in this year's games.

I mean, her very obvious willingness to quite literally run over anyone that stood between her and the chance to volunteer is more than enough to make her an early Capitol favorite, but when you add in everything else she's got going for her, at least as far as marketable physical traits are concerned, and you've got yourself a young lady that I expect will be nothing less than a classically perfect District One female tribute. And even though a small part of me was hoping I'd end up with my female tribute being the less than perfect career district tribute, if only because they tend to be significantly easier to I can't help but feel just a little bit excited at the thought of just how lucky I am to get the opportunity to sell this stunning young woman to every sponsor in the Capitol.

And what escort in his or her right mind wouldn't be? With her soft, porcelain colored skin and beautiful blue eyes framed by that flowing, mid-back length blonde hair she really is a classic beauty in almost every sense of the word. I just hope her personality, or at the very least her social graces are on par with her looks, because if they are her mentors and I won't have to do much of anything before we have a line of willing sponsors half a mile long.

Well, here's hoping….

"Welcome my dear welcome. It's an absolute pleasure to meet you Ms….?"

"Price. My name is Isabelle Price."

"Well, then Ms. Price I'm happy to…."

"I don't mean to be rude Ms. Spottiswoode. But if it's all the same to you I'd be more than happy to go by Isabelle. It's less….formal…."

"Very well then, Isabelle it is.

"And if you don't mind me saying so, it's a rare treat for me to have a tribute that as…..Passionate, about volunteering to represent their district in the arena as you appear to be."

"So, about that. I'd like to….apologize, to the girl I ran over in my haste to get into the aisle and volunteer. But when you want something...when you want something as badly as I wanted to be the first person to volunteer for the games in almost three years, you can't afford to let anyone or anything get in your way."

"Oh I agree with you on that Isabelle, and if you bring that same level tenacity and drive with you to the Capitol, I have no doubt that you'll be a force to be reckoned with in this year's games.

"But you'll have plenty of time to think about that tomorrow, right now the only thing you need to worry about is how lucky all of us are to have you as our tribute. So I think it's time for the people of District One to show their appreciation for their newest female tribute, the incredibly lovely and exceedingly determined Isabelle Price!"

I spend the next couple of minutes showing Isabelle off to the cameras, as by extension the people watching at home, while her always boisterous and excitable peers here in One to shower her with as much love and adulation as they can before taking her by the hand and gently leading her across the stage to her designated spot in front of the girl's ball. Once that's done I lean in and plant an incredibly small but easily noticeable kiss on her creamy white cheek before quickly and playfully retreating back behind my podium with a giant flirtatious grin etched on my face.

"Well, that was certainly exciting, wasn't it? But you know what, I'm starting to think poor Isabelle, despite all of her big talk and laser-like focus on winning, might get just a little bit lonely in the Capitol. And the only way to make sure that something as dreadfully awful as that never happens is to find her a district partner. Someone to not only keep her company while she's in the Capitol chasing her dream, but to keep her on her toes and make sure that she earns the right to be called a champion, not just fall into it by accident. Don't you agree?

I let my question hang in the air for a fraction of a second, just long enough to calm myself down enough that I don't trip over my own feet in my haste to select the second tribute, before twirling around the right side of the podium of bouncing off in the general direction of the boy's robins-egg-blue colored reaping ball.

And this time around I decide to forgo the theatrics for some unimaginable reason, and instead of spending a minute or so mixing the papers around in an exuberant and playful manner, like I did the first time and every time I've picked a slip before, I end up just snatching up the dark-green colored slip of paper that's currently sitting at the tippy top of the small mountain of papers. After that, I fash the cameras yet another playful flirtatious smile before scurrying back behind the podium and unfolding the slip and reading the name scribbled within with barely contained glee.

"And District One's newest Titan, as well as the incredibly lucky young man that gets to spend the next few days as Isabelle's ally and district partner is….Bijou Devon!"

It takes me all of about half a second after I finish reading the name to realize that not one boy in this District, not a single solitary one, is going to volunteer to take the place of the boy whose name I just called. And to make matters worse, as if not getting a male volunteer in a volunteer district isn't bad enough on its own, it doesn't look or sound like anyone in the crowd, let alone the man himself, is all that excited that Mr. Devon was just selected as District One's newest male tribute.

Oh, this is not good…..This is….This is so not a good thing…..

"I say again, District One's newest male tribute, the lucky young man that's about to get the chance to take his rightful place amongst the heroes and heroines of Hunger Games past, is Mr. Bijou Devon….!"

The crowd reacts to my second announcement with the same passive indifference as they did the first, or at least the majority of them do. Because this time someone does respond to the name, and a second or two after I finish calling for Bijou a small yelp of surprise erupts from somewhere in the seventeen-year-old boys section just a fraction of a second before the young man I can only assume is my new tribute comes flying out of the crowd and lands in the middle of the main aisle way with a surprisingly loud and sickening thud.

Fortunately, at least as far as his already anemic chances of scoring some halfway decent sponsors are concerned, Bijou bounces right back up and dusts himself off before turning his attention towards the stage and starting towards it at an incredibly slow but steady pace. Unfortunately for him, that's the only thing that's even remotely good Bijou has going for him right now. Because not only did he force me to call his name twice, but then he decided the best way to introduce himself to the rest of Panem was to either trip and fall like a moron or get thrown into the aisle by someone that was tired of hearing his name and decided to help prevent me from calling it again by helping him find his way out of the crowd in the fastest way possible. The fact that he looks like a scared little girl instead of a strong and confident young man, is just the icing on top.

That's not to say that he's ugly or anything like that, because he's most certainly not, but even I have to admit that his looks would be much more marketable, not to mention normal, if they were on a female tribute instead of a male. Because I could easily sell a sponsor on a girl that's packing big beautiful blue eyes and medium length light brown hair that seems to shimmer in the afternoon sun, but I'm not sure I can do the same with a boy. At least not when said boy couples that incredibly feminine looking hair and eye combination with a soft and caring face and next to no muscle mass. Heck, the only thing he might have going for him appearance wise is his height, and even that's closer to being normal, or even just a wee bit on the short side.

In short, Bijou is an absolutely perfect FEMALE tribute that's going to be asked to fill the MALE tribute slot. I just hope he sounds like a man at the very least….

"Welcome, Bijou welcome. That is how you say your name right, Bijou?"

"It um….Yes….Yes, it is ma'am."

"Oh good. Because after you didn't respond to me the first time I called it I was more than a little worried that I had messed it up."

"You didn't mess it up, Ms. Spottiswoode. I just….I wasn't expecting to hear my name is all. And then after I did I was so sure someone else would volunteer to take my place that I sort of…."

"You sort of what dear?"

"I guess I just….I just sort of froze up. My brain was telling me to start moving, to get my butt out of the crowd and up on stage because it was very impolite for me to keep you and everyone else waiting. But I just couldn't seem to get my brain and the rest of my body on the same page until one of the boys standing next to me gave me a little shove in the right direction."

Why did he have to say that on live tv? Is this kid trying to get himself killed or is he just oblivious to how indecisive and frightened everything he just said makes him sound?

"Well despite all of that, along with your, shall we say, less than inspiring entrance, I'm sure you'll be able to put it behind you and make a big splash in this year's Hunger Games. Because as I'm sure you know, I'm an amazing judge of people, and my gut is telling me there's a whole lot more to you than meets the eye Bijou. A whole lot more."

"No comment Ms. Spottiswoode. No comment."

"Would you listen to him, so coy, so secretive. I love it….

"Ladies and gentlemen would you please get on your feet and give a massive round of applause to District One's newest male tribute, the incredibly coy and mysterious Bijou Devon and his amazing district partner the exceedingly lovely and determined Isabelle Price!

"And as always I want to wish each and every one of you a very happy and safe Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favor!"

* * *

 **Bijou Devon-17(D1M)**

Why in the heck didn't someone else volunteer to take my place in the Games? I mean, I understand that no one specific was selected to do so, but that didn't stop Isabelle from stepping up and doing so on the girl's side, so I can't for the life of me think of a reason why no one on the boy's side decided to do the same thing.

Well, I guess that's not entirely true, I can think of plenty of reasons, it's just that almost none of them make a whole lot of sense. And the few that do, well I really don't want to think about those, because doing so would mean admitting one of two things. That the majority of the boys in District One aren't nearly as ready and willing to die as I've been lead to believe they are. Or maybe, just maybe, my being reaped and no one volunteering to take my place, is the universe's way of punishing me for never even trying to become the man my dad always wanted me to become.

"Oh for the love of god Bijou. Would you stop pouting like a little girl and start celebrating this for what it is. An amazing opportunity for you to prove to everyone in Panem that you actually deserve to be the son of the only man in District One history to rise to the position of training academy overseer without winning a Hunger Games title first."

"I'm….I'm sorry dad. I am trying but it's just…."

"It's just what Bijou? Too difficult a task for a weak and pathetic little rodent like you to pull off?"

"That's quite enough of that Caspian. The boy needs time to adjust to all of this and he can't-do that if you keep sitting here and pestering him with questions."

"I know that dear I was just…."

"You were just trying to make sure he knows what's really at stake for our family in the Capitol. I know.

"But this is the third or fourth time you've told him in the last five minutes, so if it hasn't sunk in already it's never going to sink in."

I hate it when my parents talk about me like this, especially when they go out of their way to say mean and hurtful things about me that I'd really rather not hear. The fact that they've been doing so on a fairly regular basis since the day I turned five, that I've gotten used to being talked to and about like I'm not even in the room despite being just a few feet away from and in the direct line of sight of each and every person involved in the conversation, is neither here nor there.

"Are you even listening to me Bijou or are you off daydreaming in la-la land again?"

"Of course I'm listening to you dad. I was just waiting to make sure you were finished and that no one else had anything to add before responding."

"Oh, I'm sure that's what you were doing you lying little shi…."

"Caspian!"

"Sorry dear.

"Ok then son, I"m finished and neither of your sisters or your mom has anything else to add so we'd all like to hear from you now….Please…."

"But that's the thing, dad, none of you actually wants to hear what I have to say about all of this. Because we all know that I'm going to tell you that I'll do everything I can to win, or at the very least not fail so hard that I embarrass the entire family. But seeing as everyone also knows that none of you actually believes that I can pull either of those things off, I don't see the point in all of us sitting here and pretending otherwise."

"You know what Bijou, you're right. We don't believe that you can die without embarrassing us, and we sure as hell don't believe that you can win. But that also means the bar is set low enough that even a pathetic little shit like you can find a way to surprise us and exceed expectations. And I think I speak for the rest of the family when I say we all really hope you find a way to do just that…."

* * *

 **Isabelle Price-18(D1F)**

There's a small part of me that honestly can't believe that it's actually come to this. I mean, I knew full well that Princeton was just as vindictive and depraved as he is old and lecherous, but I never dreamed that he would go far enough that I'd be forced to volunteer myself for the Hunger Games just to keep myself safe from him. Then again, I never expected my mom to agree to his absolutely bonkers plan for us to get married, which is what forced me to volunteer in the first place, either.

And speaking of that monumentally stupid idea…..

"Why in the world would you go out of your way to do something so stupid, Isabelle? You had everything you could have possibly wanted in life to look forward to and you threw it all away for this? How is a one in twenty-four chance at glory worth giving up a comfortable life with a rich and respected husband?"

Oh, gee mom I don't know. Maybe because my idea of having everything I could have possibly wanted in life doesn't include being married to sickeningly depraved and disgusting old man just because he's worth a couple of bucks.

"The reason I volunteered for the Games mom is that my doing so and winning them is the only way I could think of to prove to prove to everyone that I'm actually worthy of marrying someone like Princeton. I mean, a pillar of the community like him deserves to marry a woman who can bring something more substantial and worthwhile to their union than a tight body and a pretty face."

Ugh saying that was soooo much harder to do that it had any right to be. I mean seriously, I honestly think that I might hurl if I have to say any of that shit again before my Individual Interview, and even then I feel like I'd be better off saving this garbage for the end of the interview so I don't have to risk embarrassing myself any more than I absolutely have too.

But none of that matters, at least not at this specific moment in time. No the only thing in the world that matters right now is getting through these goodbyes with my mom and stepdad without letting my real reasons for doing what I did slip out in a moment of weakness or stupidity. And if I could find a way to do so without having to see Princeton before I leave that would be just that much better.

"Look, mom, I know the two of us haven't always seen eye to eye, especially when it comes to anything that has to do with me or my future plans, but I hope we can put that behind us now. I'd like to know that you and dad will be back here cheering for me just as hard as Princeton will. That way all four of us can celebrate my victory with the dream wedding you always wanted to give me."

"Oh, Isabelle. Did you really….Did you really think that I was so upset by your admittedly irrational decision that I wouldn't be cheering for you just as hard if not harder than everyone else?"

"Of course not mom. I just….I just wanted to make sure that you and dad were as in my corner as I was hoping you were."

"Of course we are hunny. Just because we think you made a mistake doesn't mean we won't still be your loudest and proudest supporters.

"Just prom….Just promise us you'll come back home safe and sound. I don't want to spend all that time planning a wedding you're never going to get to enjoy…."

Oh, that wedding is never going to happen, no matter how much time and effort you put into planning it. Because I"m either going to lose the games and be dead, or win the stupid thing and finally have the money and stability to never have to whore myself out to degenerates like Princeton ever again. But I don't need to say any of this out loud until after I win the Games.

After all, the crap story I fed my mom earlier is as good a story as I'm likely to come up with between now and when I get to the Capitol, and as long as that's the case I see no reason not to play it up to my utmost ability. Even if doing so does make me sick to my stomach….

* * *

 **A/N: First off I'd like to say a super big and extra special thank you to IVolunteerAsAuthor and Mewruru for trusting me with the task of bringing Isabelle and Bijou to life :D**

 **Second off as I'm sure you've guessed by now my update speed for this story is going to be much slower than my previous stories. Between College classes and general life, I don't want to give everyone a timeline that I feel forced to stick to because it hurts the quality of the chapters and makes it less enjoyable for me to write, which also makes it harder for me to finish it.**

 **But enough about that, I'm much more interested in hearing what everyone thinks of Isabelle and Bijou? So that means I'd appreciate it if everyone would review the chapter and let me know what you think and I'll look forward to seeing all of your bright and smiling faces in a little while for the District 2 Reaping :D**


	8. Yin and Yang(D2 Reaping)

**Magnus Ballantynn (District 2 Escort)**

I'm starting to wonder if our exceptionally amazing and illustrious President is backing herself into all of these incredibly stupid and unnecessary corners on purpose. I mean, there is a small, if slightly illogical, part of me that oh so desperately wants to believe that she's not, but I can't seem to shake the feeling that she is. After all, that's the only logical reason I can come up with to explain her exceedingly destructive need to go out of her way to 'fix' things that absolutely do not need to be fixed. The fact that she admitted as much during yesterdays incredibly touching but pointless little song and dance routine just makes it that much easier for me to believe that she really is in over her head…..

Oh for the love of, will you stop thinking about that crap Magnus. There's nothing you can do about it anyway so why in the hell are you sitting here wasting your time worrying about it when you should be focused on what could very well be the single most important and memorable day of your life. I mean, not only are you the longest-tenured escort in Hunger Games history at sixty-seven years, but you're also the first and only one that had the pull in the Capitol as well as the popularity in the districts to do so. And that means today, the day of your sixty-seventh and final reaping, is and should be all about you and your amazing career.

"Excuse me, Mr. Ballantyne, sir…?"

Oh for the love of all things holy!

"What is it now Andromeda? Can't you see that I'm busy getting ready for the reaping?"

"I can see that sir. I was just…."

"You were just what girl?! Annoying me for the hell of it? Or do you actually have something to tell me!"

"I was asked to let you know that the….That the…."

"Oh for the love of….Out with it girl! Don't let it get stuck in your fucking throat!"

"You were supposed to be out on stage five minutes ago sir. The mayor has been standing out there on stage trying to fill the gap with some incredibly awkward small talk."

"What in the hell….Why did you wait so long to tell me this you stupid little slut?!"

"With all due respect sir, I tried to tell you, on multiple occasions. I mean, I gave you the ten, five, and three-minute warnings you requested plus an additional ninety-second warning when I noticed that you still hadn't left your dressing room yet."

I'm not sure which is worse, the fact that I may have been so wrapped up in my own thoughts that I completely ignored four separate prompts to start heading for the front of the building, or that I'm still sitting here trying to come up with a way to blame my inattentiveness on Andromeda instead of just accepting the fact that I screwed up. I mean come on, one screw up, just one, in what has been an otherwise totally blemish free sixty-seven-year career really isn't all that big a deal, at least not in the grand scheme of things anyway. But that doesn't mean I'm really in the mood to just accept it and move on either.

"Excuse me sir, but the mayor and everyone else in the District are STILL outside waiting for you. Shouldn't you…."

"Oh for the love of, would you please just shut up Andromeda. I mean seriously girl, can you really be stupid enough to think that the mayor and his throng of uncouth imbeciles can do anything more than piss and moan about how long it's taking me to get my wrinkled old butt out there?

"If you're going to take over for me next year you're going to have to learn how all of this crap actually works or you're going to drive yourself insane.

"The mayor, along with his incredibly impatient but intellectually challenged citizens, will wait for me as long as I damn well, please. What's more, not only are they going to like it, but they're going to THANK ME for forcing them to do so!"

"I'm….I'm sorry sir. It's just….It's just that the teachers at the Escort Training Center spent so much time harping on the importance of proper time management and how important it is to stick as close to the schedule as possible that I just….I just kind of assumed that those things would be just as important in the field as they were in the classroom."

"Apology accepted. And for what it's worth, I shouldn't have yelled at you like that either so I guess I should apologize to you for doing so."

She answers my obviously forced and fake sounding apology with a slight nod of her head and an equally forced and fake smile before offering me her hand and helping lift me out of the warm and welcoming embrace of my incredibly soft and excessively opulent travel chair. Once I'm on my feet she helps give me a quick but thorough once-over, straightening out the wrinkles in my pants and fixing my crooked bow tie in the process, before leading me out of the dressing room. From there it's a simple matter of allowing her to lead me through and around an ever-increasing gaggle of concerned onlookers before ushering me through the slightly parted red marble double doors at the front of the main foyer and out into the expectedly subdued but somehow surprisingly pleasant embrace of an understandably antsy and impatient District Two crowd.

"And as I told you all, good things do indeed come to those who wait. And so, without further ado it's my extreme pleasure to introduce, for the sixty-seventh and final time, the single most revered and decorated Escort in Hunger Games history. The one….The only….Magnus Ballantynn!"

I'm not sure what it is about the Mayor's introduction that does it, but as I stand there on the far side of the stage and listen to his words fade into oblivion while the roar of the anxious but still inspiringly raucous crowd rushes up to take its place that the gravity and emotion of what I'm about to do comes smashing into me like a ton of bricks. And as the mayor pulls me in and wraps my unsteady body in one of his trademark pre reaping bear hug before gracefully stepping aside and motioning for me to take my place behind the podium for the sixty-seventh and final time, my emotions finally get the best of me, as a small but steady stream of tears slips past my normally impervious defenses and coats my mauve tinted, wrinkle covered cheeks in a thin but noticeable sheet of raw emotion.

"Thank you so much for that incredibly touching introduction Mr. Mayor, and I'd also like to say an extra special thank you to everyone crammed into the square as well.

"As I'm sure you all know, I've been doing this job for quite a long time, and as the mayor just said, this will, in fact, be my sixty-seventh and final reaping as your Escort. And of course, that can only mean one thing….That it's time for me to go ahead and pick out the exceedingly lucky young man and incredibly fortunate young woman who will be competing for the honor of being the thirty-fifth and final District Two tribute I've escorted to victory in my illustrious career.

"And so, with many apologies for my tardiness and no further ado, it's my honor to declare this Hunger Games Reaping, officially OPEN!"

I let my words hang in the air for a couple of seconds as I do everything I can to imprint this moment in my mind for the rest of my life before summoning all the energy and spryness I can muster and bounding out from behind the podium and strutting off across the stage in the direction of the girls reaping ball. And once I'm there I decide to take a moment to appreciate the amazing work the master stonemasons did when they carved the girls ball before setting myself to the task of selecting my last female tribute.

After that everything seems to pass in super fast slow motion as I take my slightly trembling right hand and thrust it down through the top of the small mountain of cream-colored slips of paper before stirring them about for a couple of seconds before finally snatching up the slip at the very bottom of the ball and holding it up for all of Panem to see. From there I strut back behind the podium with a wide smile on my face before quickly and proficiently unfolding the slip and studying the name scribbled within before leaning in towards the microphone and reading it out in as loud and cheerful a voice as I can manage.

"And the name of the incredibly fortunate young lady that has been selected as my final female tribute is….."

I never get the chance to actually read the name printed on my little slip of paper, because within a millisecond of my pausing to build up just a wee bit of drama before doing so, a smattering of shouts ring out from every corner of the girl's side of the square as no fewer than half a dozen girls let loose with an oh so sweet cry I didn't dare hope to hear.

"I VOLUNTEER AS TRIBUTE!"

Unfortunately for me, my happiness is destined to be exceedingly short-lived, and within seconds of the first girl bellowing out her intention to volunteer all seven of my glory-seeking young ladies are pushing and shoving one another in a slightly comical but highly disgraceful attempt to be the lucky one that actually gets to volunteer.

"Well now, this is something you don't see every day isn't it. It looks like….It looks like we have no less than six or seven young ladies that have decided that it's their turn to volunteer and no one is going to stop them from doing so.

"I just hope whichever of these incredibly feisty young ladies comes out on top saves just a little bit of this incredible spunk for when she's in the arena. Because if she does I don't think there's a power in the world that can stop her from walking out of the arena as a victor."

I can't for the life of me believe that anyone with even half a brain is stupid enough to buy that load of shit I just spewed, but seeing as it was the only good thing I could have possibly said about what was going on, given the current circumstances, I'll just have to hope that it's not to damaging for me to walk back later. You know, once I have an actual female tribute to work with instead of a gaggle of pissed off little girls fighting like dogs for the chance to be said tribute.

But as luck would have it the vast majority of the fighting, if you can even call it that, is over within the first ten or so seconds as one beautiful young woman with rich dark skin and long flowing sapphire colored hair shoves two of her younger and weaker opponents back into the writhing gaggle of other potential claimants before starting towards the stage with a triumphant smile etched on her exceptionally beautiful face.

"Well, well, well it looks like we might finally have our winner ladies and gentlemen. And I must say, not only is she exceptionally competitive and driven, but she's also one hell of an attractive little number…."

I don't get the chance to finish what I'm saying, because no sooner has the exceedingly attractive young woman I thought was about to be my newest tribute reached the bottom of the stage and started up the stairs when all hell breaks loose as one of the girls everyone thought she had dispatched comes sprinting down the aisle and lunges at her in a last-ditch effort to stop her from volunteering before she can. And that's exactly what she does.

The next few seconds pass by in a flash, one moment the two of them are standing there, the blue haired girl struggling to get away and the other girl hanging on for dear life, until the other girl regains her footing and uses her grip on her opponent's beautiful dark blue hair to yank her off the steps and send her crashing to the ground with an absolutely sickening thud.

"Well, it….It looks like I may have spoken just a bit too soon. We do indeed have our winner, but instead of a tall and statuesque beauty with dark skin and flowing sapphire colored hair we have ourselves a dark-haired little spitfire that refused to let anyone stop her from being our newest volunteer."

And it's a damn good thing she's got that going for her, because this unseemly little thing sure as hell isn't going to win any beauty pageants. I mean, it's not that she's necessarily ugly, but she is far and away the least feminine and attractive looking young lady I've ever had the misfortune of escorting for. Which means she'd better have one hell of a personality to go with that fire in her belly or she's not going to get very far in the arena, not if I have to sell sponsors on things like her below average height, short, unkempt dark hair and exceptionally dull looking greenish-brown eyes.

"Well young lady that was certainly an exceedingly unorthodox way of introducing yourself. I mean, we know that you're willing to do anything you have to in order to get what you want, but other than that you're a mystery. And while I love a good mystery just as much as the next person, I feel like this is one of those rare instances where it's better to shed as much light on the situation as we possibly can.

"And I think the best way for us to start doing that is for you to tell us your na…."

"I'm going to go ahead and stop you right there Magnus."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Oh for crying out loud. Did I say that too quietly or were you just not paying attention to me when I was talking?

"I said I'm going to go ahead and stop you right there Magnus."

"Oh I heard you the first time dear, my response was meant to be a question as to why you decided to, as you so tactfully and elegantly put it, 'go ahead and stop me right there'."

I can already tell that this hot-headed little shit is going to be a royal pain in my ass. I mean seriously, I've known her for at most a grand total of two or three minutes and she's already wearing on my last nerve with her attitude. The fact that she responded to my very truthful, if just a wee bit sarcastic, answer to her unnecessary rebuke of my innocent answer to her very rude and uncalled for interruption, just makes it that much more apparent that the two of us are not going to get along nearly as well as I normally do with my female tributes.

"Now did you have something you wanted to tell everyone miss…?"

"First of all, I'm not a miss. I'm also not a girl, a lady, a woman, a dame or any of those other incredibly demeaning gender-specific pronouns. I have a name and I expect everyone to learn and use it when speaking to me unless they'd like me to knock his or her condescending teeth down their smug throat."

Well, this is going spectacularly well so far and I get the feeling that it's probably going to get a lot worse before it gets better. Which means I need to hurry up and squeeze what little usable information I can out of this little bitch, or at the very least her freaking name, before she says or does something stupid enough to push the crowd over the edge….

"Very well then. I and your mentors will do everything we can to make sure that everyone knows how you feel and we will advise them to call you by your name or not to talk to you at all. But in order for us to do that we need to know just what your name actually is."

"My name is Tartarus, Tartarus Katsaros. And before you ask no, my parents did not NAME me that when I was born. I was born with the name Elysium but the person that bore that name died a long time ago, back when I stopped being a stupid little girl and became the young man named Tartarus that stands here today."

"I'm sorry, but did you just….Did you just say you were a boy now?"

"I've always been a boy, I just did everything I could to not be him to make my family happy. And it was my decision to stop doing so that killed Elysium and gave birth to Tartarus."

"So let me see if I understand what you're saying. You're saying you're a girl who thinks she's a boy or?"

"No. I'm saying that I am and always have been a BOY. The fact that I just happened to be born with the wrong reproductive organs is irrelevant."

Oh for the love of….Is this little bitch honestly stupid enough to believe all of this crap or is she just saying it in the hopes that doing so will get her killed quickly once the games start…? Yes, that's gotta be what it is, she's a suicidal little slut that is hoping to use the games to end her life because she lacks the strength of character and the willpower to do it herself. The fact that he doing so is going to leave a massive black mark on my otherwise pristine and spotless record as an escort doesn't mean shit to someone like her.

I really need to wrap this up and get her off the stage before she has the chance to do any more damage than she already has….

"Well that's….That's a very interesting thing to hear about you Tartarus. And while we don't have enough time for you to tell us more about this now I look forward to letting you do so once we're on the train. The rest of Panem will just have to wait until your interview to do the same.

"And with that ladies and gentlemen, I think it's time for us to let our newest tribute know just how proud we are of them. So it's time for all of you to get on your feet and show Tartarus just how proud we all are to have….Tartarus representing all of us in this year's Hunger Games!

The crowd reacts to my call for applause with just as much warmth and enthusiasm as I'd expected given the circumstances, which is to say they give me none of what I ask for and instead come as close to rioting as humanly possible without actually doing so. And even though Tartarus, who has no one to blame u herself for all of this, is doing everything in its power to hide the fact that it's pissed off by the fact that damn near everyone in the crowd is booing it like there's no tomorrow, anyone with half a brain can tell that it's getting to her...Him….It….Yeah, I think I'm going to keep referring to it as an it from here on out. At least in private anyway.

And to its credit, and my utter and complete surprise, it manages to find a way to swallow its anger and frustration just long enough for me to finish showing it off to the crowd and get it off my stage before letting out a highly muffled but still audible scream just a fraction of a second after I usher it inside the Hall of Justice and into the unsuspecting arms of a very agitated looking head-peacekeeper.

"Well that was….That was something else entirely wasn't it? I mean, I'm not sure how anyone could possibly hope to one up such a, unique and spirited introduction, but I'm sure there are at least a couple of brave and spirited young men out there in the crowd that would absolutely love a chance to try. And with that in mind, I think it's time for us to hurry up so that they can have the opportunity to do just that…."

This time I decide that it's probably not a good idea for me to waste any time bouncing around and showing off for the crowd, especially since I'm trying to hurry up and finish this train wreck of a reaping, so I force myself not to do so. Instead, I make a beeline for the boy's ball, scoop up the first paper that touches my fingers, and quickly retreat back behind the podium in as expedient but professional a manner as I can muster. And once I'm back behind the podium I quickly unfold the slip I picked and give the name scribbled within a quick once over just seconds before I hear the one thing I'm not entirely sure I wanted to hear after everything that just happened.

"I volunteer as tribute!"

I'm not sure how in the hell I'm supposed to feel about this. I mean, I was so excited when I heard those words come barreling out of all of those girls mouth a few minutes ago, but after how terrible that normally good thing ended up being, a brawl and a tribute that refused to answer even the most basic and simple of questions, I'm not sure that I can handle another volunteer.

But there's nothing I can do about it now, and within a few seconds of uttering the words I can see the boy's near the back of the eighteen-year-old boy's section finally start to move out-of-his-way as the last tribute I'll ever have the privilege of reaping starts to weave his way through the slowly dissipating gaggle of boy's that were too afraid to volunteer and in the general direction of his date with destiny.

And after another minute or two of incredibly unnerving and anxious waiting, he finally makes his way into the central aisle and affords me, and to a lesser extent the rest of Panem, our first look at the last male tribute I'll ever escort. And I have to say, I'm even less impressed with him than I was with his district partner, and that's saying something.

I mean seriously, I've found a way to pull of my fair share of impossible feats during my career, but I've never had to even think about trying to do so with so little useful material to work with. After all, it would be hard enough for me to sell him to sponsors if I was just dealing with his god-awful dark-blue glasses and bead covered dreadlocks, but when you add in the fact that those two particular details, along with his incredibly rich and attractive looking dark chocolate-colored skin, are his best and most marketable features, that's when we start running into problems.

I mean come on, how in the hell is it even possible for someone to be as tall as this kid is, he's got to be at least six and a third, maybe six and a half feet tall, and still be so, fat? God I hope this kid has something remotely resembling a personality, or at the very least is a more willing and capable liar than his district partner Tartarus, or I just might lose my mind before I actually get the chance to ride off into the sunset like I'm supposed to at the end of the year….

Well….Here goes nothing….I guess.

"Welcome son, welcome. First off I'd like to say that it's an absolute pleasure to meet you….

"Bacchus….My name is Bacchus Jaguar."

"Ahhh Bacchus…..A strong and strapping name for a strong and strapping man."

"That's very kind of you to say Mr. Ballantynn. We all know it's not true, but that doesn't make it any less flattering a thing to hear. Especially from a man that's had the privilege of meeting and working with so many of our District's greatest and most revered heroes."

Well, this is certainly a very nice and welcome change of pace. Not only is this kid is a major kiss ass, which can and will go a long way towards helping him secure sponsors, but he's also incredibly polite and respectful. Now if we could just do something about him being fat and ugly we'd be in business….

But I guess I'll let his stylist worry about that. I need to hurry and wrap this crap up before I start eating into his goodbye time….

"Thank you very much Bacchus, but as I'm sure you can guess the honor of working with all of those Titans of Panem was all mine. I just hope you'll have the chance to take your place amongst them in my final year as an escort. After all, what better way is there to retire than on top of the world?"

"Well, I promise that I'll do everything I can to help you do just that…."

"I'm sure you will son, I'm sure you will.

"Well ladies and gentlemen that about does it for this years reaping as we're running short on time and I need to give this wonderful young man and his very unorthodox District Partner a chance to say goodbye to their loved ones before I can whisk them away to the greatness their sacrifice has afforded them.

And that means I need all of you to get on your feet and show your support for the incredibly brash and fiery Tartarus Katsaros and the exceedingly calm and collected Bacchus Jaguar!

"And as always I want to wish all of you a very happy and safe Hunger Games. And may the odds be ever in your favor!"

* * *

 **Bacchus Jaguar-18(D2M)**

You know, there's a small part of me that still can't believe that I actually went and volunteered myself for the Hunger Games. It's something I've always dreamed of doing, which I'm almost positive is true of the vast majority of boys that live in my district, but even so, I never dreamed in a million years that I would have the chance to do what I just did. Especially since there was no chance in heck that the training academy overseers would ever even consider picking someone like me to volunteer. But I guess none of that matters anymore.

No, the only things that matter now are that I DID volunteer and that I AM a Hunger Games tribute. The fact that a lot of people, myself included, never thought that someone like me would ever have the opportunity to be a tribute, especially in a year where volunteering wasn't banned, is completely and totally irrelevant.

"Is everything ok Bacchus?"

"Of course everything is ok dad. Why do you ask?"

"Aside from the fact that you're being entirely too quiet and sullen for someone who should be celebrating the most important moment of his life?"

"What makes you think this is anywhere near the most important moment of my life dad?"

"Oh come on now Bacchus. You're smart enough to know that this is by far the single most important and impactful moment of your life. I mean, your mom and I know it and we're nowhere near as smart as you are, and that means there's no possible way that you can't know it too."

"But that's the thing, dad, this isn't the most important and impactful moment of my life. Heck if I'm being completely honest with you this may not even be in the top five, especially since all it is to me is the first step on my journey TO the most important and impactful moment of my life."

I can tell by the look in their eyes that the boldness and finality of my statement caught my parents, my dad more so than my mom, just a little bit off guard. And if I'm being completely honest with myself, I can't really say that I blame them.

After all, volunteering for the Hunger Games has been the one and only thing my dad has ever wanted me to do with my life, and after seventeen years of listening to him go on and on about how gratifying and fulfilling it would be for him to see me compete in and possibly even win said Games, I sort of made doing so my primary goal in life. And with that in mind, I guess that it's really not all that surprising that they, or at the very least my dad, would think that simply volunteering would be the highpoint of my life.

"Let me see if I can explain what I mean. Try to help the two of you understand where it is that I'm coming from."

"You don't have to explain anything to us, dear. Your father and I understand why you feel the way you do, why you feel like today is nothing more than your first step on your very long and dangerous journey towards true greatness. But none of that shouldn't stop you from enjoying today for what it is, your moment in the sun…."

She's right. I may not want to admit it, but that's not going to change the fact that my mom is one hundred and ten percent right. I should be doing everything in my power to enjoy this once in a lifetime experience, not ignoring it and my parents so I can try to come up with a plan for a future that's still very much in motion.

No there will be plenty of time for me to worry about the future tomorrow, right now I need to be celebrating the moment and making sure my parents know just how much I love them just in case….Just in case things go south in the arena and I end up being on the wrong side of greatness.

"You're right mom, I'm sorry."

"There's no reason for you to be sorry Bacchus.

"Now why don't you get over here and sit between your dad and me so we can spend our last few minutes together showing you how much we love our smart and strong baby boy…."

* * *

 **Tartarus Katsaros-17(D2F)**

"This is a new low even for you Elysium. It was bad enough when it was just my friends you were going out of your way to embarrass me in front of, but then you had to go and pull that I'm a boy trapped in a girls body shit in front of the entire country. Do you have any idea how much that embarrassed your father and me, young lady? DO YOU?!"

"Oh for the love of….Would you please get over yourself already mom?

"I mean seriously, are you really so selfish and insecure that you honestly care more about how the things I did or said might affect your image and standing in the district than you do about your own child?"

"My child, my baby girl, the little angel that I knew as Elysium, is dead. She died two and a half years ago after she embarrassed her family by losing that beauty pageant. All you are is some sort of sick freak that insists on humiliating me and soiling my dead daughters already thoroughly tattered memory."

I don't know how much more of this woe is me pity party spheel that my mom is on I'm going to be able to take. She's never been this bad, even when I first came out she was more disappointed than anything else, and while she has grown significantly more bitter and condescending towards me in the two years since, she's never been anywhere near as mean and spiteful as she's being right now.

But maybe this is a good thing. I mean I've already gone out of my way to cut my drunken brute of a father clean out of my life, and if my mom is going to insist on acting like this I guess it might be time for me to do the same with her. Well, I guess there's really only one way for me to find out for sure though.

"If that's the way you really feel about me then why in the hell did you waste your time and mine by coming to tell me goodbye?"

"Oh, I didn't come here to say goodbye you little freak."

"Then why are you here?"

"Because I had to make sure you didn't leave home without knowing just how much your father and I loathe you and the freakish monster you've turned yourself into. The last two years of our lives have been a living hell, and both of us would love nothing more than to watch another tribute, or better yet some sort of incredibly vicious and monstrous looking mutt, rip a little freak like you to shreds. And when that happens, and it will happen at some point because no one in their right mind would let something like you soil Panem's reputation, your father and I will be cheering for that mutt to make your end as gruesome and painful as it possibly can.

"Goodbye Elysium. Your father and I will be looking forward to cremating whatever's left of you once this is over. That way we can finally put this sad and sorted chapter of our lives where it belongs, in the past."

I don't know how I'm supposed to respond to something so spiteful and mean, and fortunately for me, it doesn't look like my mom is going to stick around and force me to do so. And as she slides out of her chair and saunters out the door with a smug grin plastered on her face the only thing I can think of is how good it's going to feel to prove her wrong. I was already planning on winning, but now I'm not only going to win, but I'm going to make sure everyone in Panem knows that I did it just so I could force my self-righteous bitch of a mother and her drunken brute of a husband to live with the fact that their so-called 'freak of nature' child is a Hunger Games Victor.

And it's with that exceedingly pleasant thought bouncing around in my head that I slide back into the welcoming embrace of my overly soft and plush armchair and allow my mind to wander as I wait ever so patiently for someone to come and whisk me away to the Capitol…..

* * *

 **A/N: First off I'd like to give an extra special thanks to CelticGames4 and Platrium for submitting Tartarus and Bacchus respectively.**

 **Well, it took me about a week and a half longer than I wanted it too, but I've finally gotten the District Two Reaping out and I hope everyone will agree with me that it was well worth the wait.**

 **Now I don't plan to take a month or so between updates, my goal is still to post at a minimum once every two to three weeks, but life and school will continue to get in the way for a little while longer so I hope everyone is ok with my having a slightly sporadic and unpredictable updating schedule until the end of the semester. After that, I should be free to write more often and that should bump up the update speed and frequency enough that we're through the parade and into training by the time I go back to school in the middle of January, I hope :D**

 **But enough about that, I'm much more interested in hearing what everyone thought of the chapter, as well as our two amazing new tributes, and in order for me to do that I need everyone to go review and tell me just how awesome you think they are :D**


	9. Roll With the Punches(D3 Reaping)

**Sagitarria Keys (District 3 Escort)**

"What in the hell do you mean Zapp isn't coming to the Capitol this year?"

"OK, you just repeated what I said word for word, so I know for a fact that I didn't stutter. So was there a specific part of what I said that you didn't get, or do you honestly not understand what I meant when I told you he's not well enough to survive the trip?"

"Don't get lippy with me Quanta. I may have been willing to take that kind of crap from Zapp, but that doesn't mean I'm going to take it from some snot-nosed little punk like you."

Oh for the love of, why did I have to go and say that? I mean, it's not that I didn't mean what I said because I did, but that doesn't mean I couldn't have at least tried to find a less rude and confrontational way to go about saying it. That's my job, after all, to find cutesy and disarming ways to say things that no respectable person should just blurt out. A fact which only serves to underscore just how thoroughly embarrassing and unacceptable that little outburst of mine really was.

"I'm sorry Quanta that was….I shouldn't have reacted to what you said like that. Not only was what I said unnecessarily rude, it was also incredibly unprofessional. And for that, I do apologize.

"I was just….I was just a little surprised that Zapp decided to share his plans with you without extending me the same courtesy."

"He didn't….He didn't tell you about any of this?"

"Of course not. In ten years of working together, he never so much as hinted at the fact that he was anything less than the picture of health. And even though I knew for a fact that the years were starting to wear on him, I still couldn't quite bring myself to imagine a world without him as a mentor.

"Sure he may have been closer to ninety than he was to fifty, and he had outlived every member of his family and all but one of his fellow District Three victors, but none of that really slowed him down. And because none of that slowed him down, I just sort of started to take it for granted that nothing in the world could stop that crazy old man from living forever."

I can't for the life of me figure out why I'm telling Quanta any of this, but for some strange reason, I can't seem to bring myself to stop talking and walk away so I can think and grieve in private like I normally do. I mean, it's not like I have some sort of insane desire to stand here in the middle of the main foyer of the District Three Hall of Justice and spill my guts to some smart ass little punk like Quanta, because I can say with somewhere near a hundred and ten or so percent certainty that I do not, but that annoying little fact doesn't seem to be strong enough to override my gut feeling that this is what I NEED to be doing. Regardless of how embarrassing it might be for me to do so in such an open and public place.

So I force myself not to fight it and do just what it is my gut is all but screaming at me to do, spill my guts in what even the most childish and illogical part of my brain thinks is nothing more than an incredibly lame and transparent attempt for me to use Zapp, or more specifically his illness and impending death, to forge a bond with Quanta that neither of us seems to really want to forge.

But seeing as she's the only living victor in my district, the two of us are going to be stuck working together whether we really want to or not. And with that in mind, I guess I might as well suck it up and hope that Quanta is still sufficiently shaken enough by everything that's going on that she doesn't notice the stunt I'm trying to pull.

Oh god. Just thinking about trying to pull this crap on poor little Quanta is making me sick to my stomach….

But even though I really do hate every little thing about what I'm about to do, I know that I can't let those feelings get in the way of doing what I know for a fact needs to be done. So even though this is by far the single most deceitfully disgusting thing I've ever done in my life, I force myself to spend the next half an hour or so sharing all of my Zapp related experiences and memories with an increasingly distraught and uncomfortable looking Quanta.

But as luck would have it, at least as far as my increasingly fragile willingness to keep up this charade is concerned, my half an hour of hell on earth seems to zip by at a significantly faster rate than I dared to hope it would. And before I know it my ears are being treated to an incredibly beautiful and soft chiming noise just a few seconds before one of the Capitol broadcast attendants takes Quanta and me by the hand and expertly weaves her way through the increasingly disorganized gaggle of people trying to get to their assigned places and in the general direction of the massive bronze plated double doors at the front of the main foyer.

A few seconds later, after the majority of the gaggle of people we just weaved our way through has dispersed and everyone around me has started to wonder just what in the hell is going on, the Mayor comes strolling down the stairs from his second-floor office wearing an incredibly ill-fitting and wrinkled suite with a playful but cautious grin plastered on his otherwise youthful and energetic looking face.

"Sorry to keep you all waiting like this. My tailor was trying to find something that fit me just a little bit better but everything he pulled out of his bag seemed to fit just a little bit worse than what I already had on. I think he might have forgotten that I'm not nearly as tall or robust as my predecessor in this office was."

None of us responds to his statement, not that any of us are actually given much of a chance to do so. Because no sooner has he finished talking he's strolling out through the slightest of cracks in the massive bronze doors that separate the lavishly decorated and ornate interior of the District Three Hall of Justice from the warm and welcoming embrace of the assembled masses waiting ever so patiently for us to get this show on the road.

The next five minutes or so seem to drag on forever as the Mayor spends an entirely unnecessary amount of time talking about himself, or more specifically how honored he is to be presiding over his first ever reaping as mayor, before finally turning his attention to more important things. And even then, he can do is casually rush through his introduction of Quanta, who he stupidly and incorrectly identified as his district's only living victor, before finally getting around to me.

"But I'm sure none of you are really interested in listening to me run my mouth…."

Is he really just now realizing that or does he just enjoy stating the obvious like some sort of moronic freaking dipshit?

"And so, without further delay, it's my pleasure to introduce to all of you an absolutely fantastic young lady, one that we've all come to know and love. The one, the only, Sagitarria Keys!"

"Thank you so much for that incredibly warm and welcoming introduction Mr. Mayor, and I'd also like to give another extra special thank you to everyone cheering here in the crowd for once again making me feel like the single luckiest woman in all of Panem.

Because as I'm sure you all know, every child born in the Capitol, myself included, grows up dreaming about getting the chance to become a Hunger Games Escort. And not only was I lucky enough to be given the chance to follow my heart and live out that dream, but I was also blessed with the opportunity to do so in the single most wonderful and welcoming district in the country!"

I let my words hang in the air for a couple of seconds before throwing a fun and flirty wink in the general direction of the nearest bank of cameras and showering the crowd with flurry of playfull kisses just a fraction of a second before it erupts in what I'm pretty sure is the single loudest and most raucous round of applause I've managed to elicit out of them in a pre-reaping setting in my ten years on the job. But in this moment, as I'm being showered with the love and adulation of around two-hundred thousand screaming fans, none of that matter to me.

But I know for a fact that I can't spend more than a couple of seconds enjoying this, and once those seconds are up I'm forced to very reluctantly motion for the crowd to quiet back down before leaning in towards the microphone and pushing ahead with this year's reaping.

"Now I'm sure all of you know by now that I would love nothing more than to just stand here and listen to all of you amazing people cheer, but that's not what why we're all here. No, we're here to find out which incredibly brave and lucky young man, as well as which exceedingly bright and fortunate young woman, are about to be blessed with a once in a lifetime opportunity to represent this amazing district, and by extension each and every one of you absolutely wonderful people, in the Capitol for this years Hunger Games!

"And seeing as I'm almost positive that all of you are just as eager to shower those aforementioned youngsters with a year's worth of pent-up love and adulation as I am, I think it's time for me to stop with the talking and get to the picking.

"As always, we'll start things off with the selection of our exceedingly bright and fortunate female tribute….."

I've never been one for all of that fancy schmancy showing off crap that most of my peers seem to be so fond of, at least not when it comes to something as mundane and straightforward as walking across the stage and picking a slip of paper out of the reaping ball. And while this does mean that my slip selection process is far and away the simplest and least interesting in all of Panem, it also has it's good points. Because my decision not to show off means that all of my adoring fans, and by extension, I and all of the people watching across the breadth of this great nation, don't have to sit there and wait for me to finish making an ass of myself before finding out who the tribute is.

And speaking of finding out who my newest tribute is…..

"And the name of District Three's newest female tribute, the one that will be doing anything and everything in her power to put on a good show and make all of you proud to call her your female tribute is…..Iridessa Parks!"

If there's one thing I've learned about the people of District Three in my ten years serving as their Hunger Games Escort, it's that they always respond to the announcement of a recently selected tributes name in an incredibly reserved and subdued way. I mean seriously, the people in this district can go from screaming at the top of their lungs and carrying on like stark raving loons to deathly silent in the blink of an eye. And for some unexplainable reason, that's exactly what they do every time I read off the name of the lucky young man or woman who I just selected to be their newest champion.

And while I absolutely hate having to admit this, their silence can, and oftentimes is, a good thing. Unfortunately, this is not one of those times. Because within a couple of seconds of my calling out Iridessa name, my ears are treated to the sound of an incredibly soft and faint, but thanks to the crowd still audible, series of terrified sounding whimpers that sound like they're coming from the general vicinity of the divide between the fourteen-year-old and the fifteen-year-old girl's section.

"I say again, the name of District Three's newest female tribute is Iridessa Parks!"

My second announcement is met with the same stone cold silence as the first, with the exception of the whimpering, which sounds like it's not only moving but also increasing in both volume and patheticness. This continues for the better part of a minute until, at long last, my whimpering little baby of a tribute finally weaves her way around her last obstacle and unceremoniously stumbling out into the central aisle way with an almost comical little yelp. Unfortunately for her, that cute little yelp is as far as the comedy, as well as the good, ends.

I mean it's not the end of the world if a tribute cries, as long as they only do so for a brief moment, because then the crying is something that can be worked around, or better still turned into an advantage, as long as everyone involved is willing to put in a little effort. But when a tribute cries like Iridessa is crying right now, she's literally one small step away from outright baby like bawling and movement ending convulsions, there's nothing in the world short of divine intervention that can turn that into something useful and marketable.

Of course, if that was her only real problem slash drawback things might not be that bad, but when you add in her almost cookie cutter District Three looks, complete with dull hazel colored eyes, and rich dark brown skin. Add in her diminutive height and excessively long, at least for someone her size, dark-brown hair that she's got tied back in some sort of messy looking bun and you've got yourself a little girl that's going to need to be nothing short of a certifiable genius, as well as one hell of a talker, if she wants to have a snowball's chance in hell of being even marginally competitive in the arena.

"And here she is everyone. Allow me to formally introduce to all of you, the young woman who has been chosen to serve as District Three's newest champion, Iridessa Parks!"

My statement manages to elicit a small but hearty sounding round of applause from my still damn near comatose audience, and after allowing them, and by extension Iridessa, to bask in the glory that is her reaping, I motion for them to quiet down before leaning in and wrapping my arm around my suddenly very tense and uncomfortable looking tribute.

"You know something Iridessa, I think that might be the single most stirring round of applause I've ever heard, and it was all for you my dear. And I don't know about you, but just thinking about how much all of these people love you already is….well….it's enough to make me all tingly inside. But the real question here is, how do YOU feel about all of this my dear?"

I lean in with an incredibly big and warm looking smile on my face as I offer her the microphone, but for some unimaginable reason, she doesn't say a thing. Instead, and to my extreme annoyance, she just stands there and stares blankly at it as tears continue to stream down her already excessively tear-stained face.

"Come now Iridessa. I know that all of this can be just a little bit…..difficult, to take in, let alone process in such a short period of time. But I can assure you that there is no right or wrong way for you to answer this question. All we want is for you to let us know how you feel about being the recipient of such an amazing and illustrious honor."

Still nothing. God this whiny little girl is really starting to annoy the shit out of me….

"Or if you're still not done processing everything, you could always tell us a little bit about yourself and your family. Or better still just what about the Capitol you're most looking forward to seeing when you get there."

Once again Iridessa ignores, or worse is making the conscious decision to out-and-out refuse to answer, my perfectly normal, not to mention incredibly straightforward easy to answer, questions. And if she's dead set on not answering any of my questions, I'm not going to waste any more time peppering her with them in an obviously pointless attempt to coax an answer out of her.

I just hope this uptight little bitch grows to appreciate all the extra work Quanta and I are going to have to do in order to make her even the least bit attractive to potential sponsors….

"Well it looks like poor Iridessa is having a little trouble processing all of this, and when you take her age into consideration that's not all that big a surprise. So I know it's going to stink, but it looks like all of us will just have to wait until her pre-game interview to get to know her better.

"So let's have a big round of applause for our newest female tribute, the incredibly stoic and mysterious Iridessa Parks!"

I'm more than a little surprised by just how loud and energetic the crowd gets when I punctuate my previous statement by grabbing Iridessa hand and thrusting her arm into the air in what everyone with half a brain knows full well is an underserved moment of triumph. But what the hell, maybe the crowd's incredibly enthused response will be enough to fool a few of the more gullible people in the Capitol into liking, or maybe even sponsoring, her sorry ass. And even if it doesn't, at least all of these fine people can go to bed tonight content in the fact that they tried a thousand times harder to help Iridessa than she did to help herself.

But I don't have time to worry about that, at least not at this precise point in time. No, right now I have to worry about picking out a district partner for that ungrateful little shit. And even though I know the odds of me picking another tribute that's even half as useless as Iridessa is, I'm still not all that eager to roll the dice for the second time.

Well, here goes nothing. I guess…..

And it's with that less than stellar personal endorsement ringing in my ears that I announce to the crowd, unnecessarily I might add, that I'm now going to pick out a male tribute, before gently placing the microphone back in its holder and strolling across the stage to do just that. And just like I did before, I go about the process of picking a slip in as professional and concise a manner as humanly possible, and within ten or so seconds I'm safely back behind the podium and diligently studying the name of my newest male tribute before leaning in and calling it out in what I can only pray ends up being as calm, clear, and confident sounding a voice as I hope it is.

"And our male tribute, the lucky young man who will have the privilege of joining the oh so cute little Iridessa in the Capitol is…..Joss Stellan!"

For the second time today my initial announcement of my newest tributes name is met with a combination of indifference and stone cold silence. And for the second time today that silence, which again has been a somewhat advantageous thing in the past, ends up being a very bad thing as the crowds silence allows me, and by extension damn near everyone in Panem, is treated to an impromptu serenading as the young man I can only assume is Joss lets loose with a string of curse words the likes of which I've never heard before.

At least I think they were curse words. Some of them were so jumbled and slurred that I'm not entirely sure what it was that was being shouted.

Fortunately for me, and to a lesser extent anyone else in Panem that might have been trying to figure out what language most of those cuss words were shouted in, Joss decides not to keep us waiting nearly as long as his inconsiderate little shit of a partner did. But within seconds of him stepping out of the crowd and into the central aisle way, which also affords me my first clear and unobstructed look at my newest tribute, I find myself wishing that he had.

I mean seriously, it was going to be hard enough for Quanta and me to sell Iridessa to sponsors, crying like a little bitch and refusing to talk can and will cripple even the most dangerous and competent of tributes, but after getting a good long look at Joss I feel like I have a better chance of convincing people that she's the second coming of Johanna Mason or Finnick Odair than I do of convincing even the stupidest of sponsors that Joss is going to be anything more than a walking corpse once the Games actually start.

After all, it might be possible for me to convince sponsors that Iridessa is worth sponsoring based purely on her looks. It's not likely, given the fact that she might literally be the single most plain and boring looking girls I've ever had the displeasure of escorting, but at least she's giving me something to work with. Joss on the other hand, with his thick, greasy looking dark brown hair and dull, almost cartoonish looking brown eyes, the kind of eyes that make it damn near impossible for everyone and their dog to not know how he's feeling at any given moment, are another story entirely.

Hell, even the good slash neutral things about his appearance, like his slightly above average height and normal looking weight and body mass, will at best mask some of his other physical drawbacks. But none of that, and I do mean nothing, is going to be enough to wash away the memory of him cursing like a damn fool when I called his name.

"Well hello there Joss my dear. It's an absolute pleasure to meet you."

"Oh, I'm sure it is Sagitarria. I am sure it is…."

Terrific, so it looks like I somehow found a way to trade DOWN from a nontalker to a condescending little asshat. I'm so lucky that this shit just keeps finding new ways to get better and better for me…..

"Oh, I can assure you that it is dear. After all, it's always a pleasure for me to meet a new tribute for the first time. Especially when that tribute is as handsome and dapper as you are."

"That's great. So is this handsome and dapper young man you're going on about hiding in the Hall of Justice or is he one of those special kinds of people that's nowhere and everywhere at the same time?"

Oh, my god, this kid is a sarcastic little ass. I'm not sure if it's just one of those ingrained defense mechanisms that he can't o won't turn off, or if he really is just a sarcastic little prick that doesn't know how to stop himself from putting his freaking foot in his mouth. And if I'm being totally honest with myself at this point, I not really sure that I give two shits either way. After dealing with the absolute train wreck that was Iridessa's, I'm not sure I have the time or the energy to deal with Joss and what I can only assume is his self-destructive need to make an ass of himself.

"You know something, Joss, I don't get the chance to say this very often, especially not in a District that seems to go out of its way to eschew comedic nature in favor of cold hard facts, but you are by far the funniest young man I've had the pleasure of meeting in a good long while. And even though I can tell it's going to be a real challenge to do so, I am so looking forward to breaking through your shell and getting to know you over the next few days."

"Well, I'm glad that at least one of us is looking forward to going through all of this pointless crap Sagitarria. Because I know I'm not."

Well, this is getting us nowhere slowly. Which means I probably need to wrap it up before this little shit makes me look like a bigger joke than he already has.

God, I'm starting to hate this year more and more by the freaking second….

"Would you get a load of this guy, it sounds like he's got jokes for days. And I for one am looking forward to hearing him tell each and every one of them over the next few days. But worry not folks, I promise I'll have him save a few good ones for his pre-game interview.

"And with that in mind, I think it's time for us to give the incredibly brave and witty Joss Stellan one more big round of applause before we send him off to the Capitol to not only chase his destiny, but also bring honor and glory to both himself and his amazing district!"

I spend the next couple of seconds showing a still scowling and reluctant Joss off to the crowd, who to their credit cheer just as loudly for him as they did for Iridessa despite the mountain of very real and obvious flaws. But still, I'm not one to take chances I don't have to, and that makes my decision to usher Joss, along with his STILL crying partner Iridessa, off the stage when the crowd was still cheering at a somewhat respectable level an incredibly easy one for me to make.

"Oh, hold on a second, there's just one more thing I need to say to all of you before I go.

"Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favor!"

* * *

 **Joss Stellan-16 (D3M)**

"What in the world were you trying to prove out there Joss?"

"I don't….I'm not sure what you're talking about Milo."

"Oh come on Joss. That kind of crap may work on mom and dad, but we both know it's not going to work on me, little brother.

"So I'll ask you again, what in the heck were you trying to prove out there Joss? Did you just snap under the pressure or did you honestly think that copping an attitude with your escort was the best thing for you to do?"

"Would you get off your brothers back Milo? Don't you think he's got more important things to worry about right now? And more importantly, don't you have better things to do then sit there and overanalyze and second guess his every move?"

"You see that's the thing, mom, he really DOESN'T have more important things to worry about. I mean, is there really anything more important to or for him right now than figuring out why he felt the need to Joss everything up with one of the two people that can help him survive all of this?"

I really wish that Milo would just listen to mom and drop this whole thing. It's not like I don't already feel bad enough about what I did, because I would need to be an even bigger idiot than I already am not too, which means I really don't need him to spend what little time I have left with my family dwelling on what might be the single stupidest thing I've ever done in what has already been an incredibly stupid and mistake-filled life.

Of course, he wouldn't have to be saying any of this if I hadn't lost my cool and said all of those super stupid and unnecessary things to Sagitarria in the first place. Which makes all of this, including everything my big brother has or will have to say to me, all my fault. And since all of this is my fault, I guess I don't really have all that much room to complain about how all of it is turning out either.

"It's ok mom. Not only does he mean well but he's also right. I did screw up, and even though me screwing up isn't exactly anything new or shocking, that doesn't mean I don't still need to learn whatever lesson it is I'm supposed to learn from it too."

"I wish you wouldn't talk about yourself like that son. You know that your father and I hate it when you go out of your way to put yourself down."

I know that mom, and I am sorry that I have to do it as often as I do. But just because you and dad don't like it, or me talking about it for that matter, doesn't mean that I'm not the all-world screwup that everyone in the world but the two of you knows that I am.

"After all, that's the reason my life has been as hard as it's been, it's why I got reaped in today's Reaping, and it's why I'm going to end up embarrassing the three of you in the Capitol before I die an incredibly bloody and inglorious death in the arena…."

That was probably just a little more straightforward and terse than it needed to be, especially since the only people I'm saying it to are my family, but I just can't seem to bring myself to sugar coat any of this. At least not now, not when I'm sharing what I know full well is going to be my final moments with my family before leaving for the Capitol to die fighting a bunch of other kids so that a bunch of sick freaks like Sagitarria can get their jollies.

Of course, I'm sure none of this is going to stop someone, probably my dad or Milo, from berating me one more time for telling it like it is. And unless I missed my mark, that's exactly what it looks like Milo is getting ready to do.

"Look, Joss, you're right about the first part. You fucked up today, you fucked up big, but that doesn't mean you can't make up for it and come out the other end stronger for what happened.

"I mean you said it yourself, you've made more colossally boneheaded mistakes in your sixteen years of life than most people make in sixty."

"That's not….That's not actually what I said, Milo."

"Ok that may not be an exact word for word repeating, but it's close enough for me to adequately make the point that I'm trying to make."

"Which is…?"

"That the odds are almost one-hundred percent that you'll have more experience bouncing back from stupid mistakes than the rest of the tributes combined. And seeing as that's the case there's no reason you can't do the same thing there that you've been doing for your entire life. Look that stupid little screw up in the eye and spit right in its face like you did that bully in third grade."

Why in the world would he pick that particular mistake to make his point?! Did he forget that the result of me spitting in that kid's face was that he broke my nose and knocked out three of my teeth? And how in the world can he possibly think that something like that, or finally working up the courage to ask out the cutest girl in my class only for her to laugh in my face so hard that I almost knocked her out and cried at the same time, is the same as being unexpectedly thrust head first into a fight to the death?

"Your brother's right son. You can pull this off if you just set your mind to it and try.

"Can you do that for us, Joss? Can you take your big brothers advice for the first time in your life and promise your dad and me that you'll try? Please baby?"

I don't….I don't know how I'm supposed to respond to that. I mean, it's not like I can tell my mom no or anything, but I'm not sure I should be making her a promise I know I can't keep. I've made her enough of those in my life, and I really don't want the last thing I say to her to be a lie. But I don't see any other alternative either.

So I guess that means I'll just have to mean it….

"Ok, mom. If that's….If that's what you and dad want me to do, then that's exactly what I'm going to do….."

* * *

 **Iridessa "Dessa" Parks-14 (D3F)**

I'm starting to wonder what it was I did that was so awful the universe feels the need to punish me in such a mean and unfair way. Is it my unique and slightly out-of-place love of nature and the outdoors? Or is it my unimaginably strong dislike of being cooped up inside all day being forced to learn all that stupid math and science when I'd rather be outside enjoying nature? Or maybe, just maybe, this is the universe's twisted way of getting back at me for being a talkative social butterfly in a district chalk-full of socially awkward introverts.

Well whatever the reason is, I hope I can figure it out soon so I can stop dwelling on it, and by extension whatever I did in the past to elicit this kind of exceedingly harsh punishment, so I can stop worrying about it and get back to doing what it is I do best, being happy and trying to live for today instead of worrying about what DID happen yesterday or what MIGHT happen tomorrow.

"Are you sure you're ok Dessa?"

"Well I've obviously been better, but all in all I can't really complain. Why do you ask mom?"

"Well, for starters you've been so quiet I almost didn't know you were in the room. I mean, normally it's all anyone can do to get you to quiet down long enough to get a word in edgewise, but in the half hour or so we've been sitting here we've had to dang near pull teeth to get you to say anything at all."

I honestly didn't realize that it had been that long. I mean, I knew I was being quiet, that's kind of the only way I know how to deal with sudden and unexpected changes, like bridging the one in a million shot of being picked to compete in the freaking Hunger Games, but losing track of time while doing so is a completely new and unwelcome little twist. And even though I'm not going to admit as much, losing track of time, especially at a time like this, is more than just a little bit scary.

"Sorry about that mom. It's just that you've always said that I never, as you always say, know when to shut up. So I figured I'd give you a little going away present slash surprise and actually only speak after being spoken too.

"Do you like it…?"

That may have been the single lamest and cheesiest thing I've ever said, but that doesn't stop me from grinning like a fool as I stare expectantly at my mom while my dad and little brother Dash do their best not to bust out laughing until they see how my mom is going to react to what I just said. And fortunately for them, and I guess me too, my mom does eventually break down and smile, if only ever so slightly, before letting loose a string of almost childlike giggles that catch all of us by surprise.

"Oh, I love it Dessa. Thank you so much baby girl.

"But why in the world would you pick now, of all times, to finally start listening to my advice?"

"Well, we all knew it was going to happen sooner or later. And seeing as I'm about to leave for the Capitol, and I don't know for sure when or if I'll be coming back, I figured I might as well go ahead and make it sooner. Give you a little something to remember me by in case…."

"Don't even say it Dessa! Nothing bad is going to happen to you when you're in the Capitol. You may not have gotten off to as good a start as you could have, but you're entirely too charismatic and likable to let something like that keep you down for very long."

I wish I was as confident about that as my mom seems to be. I mean, I had to have made about as bad a first impression on the Capitol, as well as all of the other tributes in this year's games, as humanly possible without picking a fight or throwing up all over the stage. And unless a couple of the tributes that haven't been reaped yet decide to go out of their way to bail me out by actually picking a fight or tossing their cookies, I'm not sure there's any combination of charisma and likeability that's going to be enough to save me.

Stop it Dessa. You know you can't afford to think like that so why in the heck are you doing it? I mean sure, things don't look all that good right now, and the mountain I'm going to have to climb to overcome my early mistakes seems almost undoable, but as my mom pointed out, that's never stopped me before.

After all, everyone I know said I was crazy when I told them I was going to start growing a little garden on our apartment balcony. Everyone told me there was no way in heck that flowers, let alone things like tomatoes and peppers, could possibly grow in the middle of the city. But here I am, two years later and the proud owner of a small but very real vegetable garden surrounded by beautiful little snapdragons and big-beautiful sunflowers. So I know full well that I'm capable of doing the impossible, as long as I put my mind to it.

I mean seriously, if I can find a way to do the impossible once by growing plants in the middle of a city, how hard could it really be for me to do it again by finding a way to beat the odds and win the Hunger Games…?

* * *

 **A/N: First off, I'd like to give an extra special thanks to both AmericanPi and HogwartsDreamer113 for trusting me enough to bring both Iridessa and Joss to life.**

 **And we've finally done it, everyone, it took a long time to do it, but we've finally gotten to the ¼ mark of the reapings! I know that's an arbitrary mark, but at this point, I'm a hundred percent ready to celebrate every little milestone possible as I continue to try and balance school, writing, and my personal life.**

 **And speaking of that, I hope to have District 4 out around Thanksgiving and then after the first week of December, once my semester ends, I'll have the next month or so off so I'm hoping to be able to update on a weekly basis. But we can worry about that later, right now I'm much more interested in hearing what everyone thinks of Iridessa and Joss :D**

 **So as always, please review the chapter and let me know what you think, as well as anything I can do to make the journey more enjoyable, and I'll be looking for all of your smiling faces at the District 4 Reaping :D**


	10. Uncharted Waters(D4 Reaping)

**Inala Ivory (District 4 Escort)**

"So it finally happened huh?"

"I'm not….I'm not sure what you're talking about Inala."

"Oh come on Allure, you know better than to try to play coy with me. Because even if you were good at it, which you're most certainly not, it wouldn't do you any good in this particular situation because you know full well that I can read you, and to a slightly lesser extent each and every one of your fellow mentors, like a book.

"So why don't you just go ahead and drop this whole, I'm going to be intentionally vague and super-duper secretive thing you've got going on and just tell me how it happened?"

"Well for starters I'm not just good at playing coy, I'm the best. So I have no idea where you got the absolutely bonkers idea that I'm bad at it.

"Secondly, it's kind of hard for me to be intentionally vague or secretive about something, when I honestly have no idea what it is I'm being vague or secretive about.

"So if you could go ahead and fill me in on just what the 'it' you keep referring to actually is….."

"Allure….."

"Yes, Inala?"

"I saw Joyce's engagement ring when I ran into her in the hall."

You know, it's kind of funny to just stand here, with what I can only assume is a super goofy looking smile plastered on my face, and just watch Allure try to process and digest everything I just said without losing her cool.

I mean, I know I shouldn't enjoy making her squirm like this, especially since we both know that I'm going to be stuck working with her, as well as her absolutely adorable fiancée, until the three of us can pull our collective heads out of our asses long enough to bring home another victor.

Which means, and I absolutely loathe having to admit, I should probably be just a wee bit more careful about the kinds of jokes and pranks I decide to play on the two of them. At least until I can get a better read on just what kinds of jokes and pranks I can get away with playing on the two of them that is….

"So about that….We were planning on telling you that we'd gotten engaged as soon as we got on the train. Mainly because we didn't want to run the risk of possibly overshadowing today's festivities by formally announcing our engagement to the world before the Reaping took place."

Well, I've got to give it to her, at least she and Joyce were thinking about the potential fallout of their decision this time. I mean, they still screwed up a little bit by waiting until the day before, or god forbid the day of, the freaking reaping to get engaged, at least they didn't go out and make a big spectacle of it. So I guess I've got that going for me at least.

I mean seriously, would it have killed them to go out and get engaged a week or two ago? Or at the very least let me know what they were planning in advance, if only so I could have run a little bit of preëmptive damage control BEFORE the two of them get around to making a formal announcement?

But I guess both of those 'issues' are probably more nit-picky than anything else, especially since they did decide to wait until AFTER the reaping, and more than likely the Tribute parade, to make a formal announcement to the Capitol.

"You're not….You're not mad at us are you Inala?"

"Don't be silly Allure, of course, I'm not mad. I am a little disappointed that you didn't think I'd like to know that something this big was in the works. And I'd be lying if I said I wasn't just a little bit upset that the two of you didn't give me a little advanced warning so I could start smoothing things over with our big money sponsors before they catch wind of this.

"But even with all of that working against you, coupled with the fact that I'd be more than justified in being out-and-out pissed that the two of you did this so close to the start of the Games, I'm honestly not mad."

Wow, that….I feel like that came out sounding a hell of a lot more aggressive, not to mention downright mean and condescending, than I honestly meant for it too. I mean, it's not that I didn't mean everything I just said, because I did, I just didn't mean for it to come out anywhere near as passive-aggressive sounding as it did.

And if the look of indifferent annoyance plastered on Allure's face is any indication, that's exactly what she took it as.

"So that came out sounding just a little bit…."

"Just a little bit bitchy and condescending?"

"Well, I don't know if I'd use those specific words."

"Well, I would. And for the record, bitchy and condescending is exactly how you came off Inala."

"And for that, I apologize.

"But with that being said, I don't think you actually understand why I'm as upset about all of this as I am. Because despite how it might have sounded earlier, I'm honestly not upset that you and Joyce decided to get engaged. What I am upset about is just how big, not to mention embarrassing, an impact your decision could have on the two of you, and to a lesser extent your tributes, in this year's games.

"I mean, did the two of you even think about that before you decided to go ahead and do this so close to the start of them?"

"I'll admit that our timing could have been better, and to be fair I had every intention of waiting until after we got back from the Capitol to actually pop the question. But that was before I came home from the Training Center and realized that last night was the absolute perfect time for me to do it.

"And I'm sorry to have to say this, but how the rest of Panem MIGHT react to our engagement, was the last thing on my mind when I asked her to marry me. And in the end, neither of us cares what they think of our decision because we're not getting married for them. We're getting married for us."

Wow, I must sound like a major bitch right now. Here I am worrying about abstracts and potential repercussions, when I should be congratulating the first tribute I ever escorted to a title, on her recent engagement. The fact that said engagement just happens to be to one of her fellow victors, just means their future wedding is going to be twice as big and important an event as it would have been otherwise.

Everything else, including my as of yet unspoken fears that the two of them will be entirely to distracted by their impending nuptials to do their jobs, is nothing more than unsubstantiated and pointless noise. And while that doesn't mean I'm not going to force the two of them to sit down and talk about all of this, whether they want to or not, it does mean that I can probably afford to do so at a more appropriate time and in a much more private and appropriate place.

And unsurprisingly, my ability, not to mention willingness, to do so ends up being a good thing. Because no sooner have I decided to do so, both Allure and I are being hastily ushered out of my piss poor excuse for a dressing room before being all but dragged in the general direction of the seashell covered entrance arch at the front of the foyer; which just happens to be where the mayor and rest of the victors are currently waiting; by my very red-faced and agitated looking production manager.

Fortunately, more so for him than anyone else, he decides not to make a bigger deal out of whatever it is that's got him so worked up than he already has, and instead quickly sets himself to the task of starting the Mayor's automated introduction. And once he's got that, he quickly and professionally, albeit just a wee bit aggressively, shoos her through the faux seaweed curtain that's currently separating those of us tucked inside the Hall of Justice from the rest of the district proper

And once the Mayor is out on stage it takes her all of maybe seven minutes to eagerly introduce her district's quintet of living victors, as well as pay her obviously forced and uninspiring lip service to the memories of those that have already passed on, before clumsily, if not amusingly, transitioning into an incredibly rushed and inarticulate introduction of me.

"But there will be time for us to celebrate the memories of our dearly departed champions tomorrow. Right now, it's time for us to focus on the future, and as you all know, the best way to do that is for us to go ahead and find out which lucky young man and fortunate young woman will have the honor of representing our illustrious district in this year's Hunger Games.

"Of course there's only one person in the District with the power to do that, and that's our incredibly flashy and stylish Capitol Escort, Ms. Inala Ivory.

"And with that in mind, it's my absolute pleasure to once again welcome her back to District Four for this year's reaping!"

Ugh, that was awful. You'd think that after doing this once a year for the last ten years that she'd at least be capable of delivering a somewhat decent, if not marginally inspiring introduction by now. Oh well, I guess I'll just have to find a way to pump up the crowd on my own, just like I have every year before this.

"Thank you, everyone thank you!

"Now, as I'm sure you all know by now, my name is Inala Ivory, and much like it was your mayor's pleasure to welcome me back for yet another exceptionally fun and suspense-filled reaping, it's my pleasure to be here with all of you wonderful people for what I'm almost positive will be my twenty-first consecutive year of greatness.

"And with that in mind, and boundless joy in my heart, it's my undeniable privilege to declare this, our One Hundred and Fifth Annual Hunger Games Reaping, to be officially…..OPEN!"

I love it when things come together perfectly, it makes me feel like the entire world is on my side. So when my melodic screaming of the word open is punctuated by the roaring crash of a massive wave that somehow manages to amplify the already ground shakingly loud and boisterous roar of my very excited and eager crowd, I can't help but smile and pump my fist in triumph before scooping up my microphone and sauntering towards the front of the stage with that same silly smile still plastered on my face and an almost childlike twinkle in my ruby-colored eyes.

"Well would you look at that, it looks like mother nature is just as eager to get this show on the road as all of you are. And seeing as mother nature is an incredibly important, albeit it an excessively fickle mistress, and I know better than to keep people like that waiting any longer than I absolutely have too, I think it's in all of our best interest to listen to her.

"And so, as I'm sure you all know by now, tradition dictates that we start this party with the selection of our newest female tribute…."

I can't remember the last time I was this excited about something so mundane and uneventful as a picking a slip of paper out of a ball, especially since I've done it damn near half a hundred times in my life already, but for some odd reason, that's exactly what I am. I'm excited about drawing what will most likely be an unimportant and inconsequential slip of sea-green colored paper out of that stupid looking mother-of-pearl colored dolphin reaping ball and I can't for the life of me understand why.

But even so, I force myself not to fight what I hope will end up being a good thing, and within ten or so seconds of me starting towards it, I've snatched up one small, sea-green colored slip of paper from the very heart of the seashell shaped mountain of them and effortlessly sashayed back behind the podium where I eagerly unfold the oh so elegantly folded crescent-shaped slip of paper and almost screaming out the name scribbled within in what I can only assume is an incredibly entertaining and comical high-pitched and childishly excited sounding voice.

"And our female tribute for this year will be…..Coral Atwa…."

I don't get the chance to finish reading Coral's name, which is probably a good thing because I'm almost positive I was going to absolutely butcher her last name if I had to finish reading it. But I don't, and that's because within what might literally have been a fraction of a fraction of a second of me starting in on this poor girl's almost impossible to pronounce last name, I'm treated to the four sweetest sounding words in the English language. The same four little words that have, and probably always will, light up my life and make all the hard work and crap I have to put up with in my job seem like it's actually worthwhile.

"I volunteer as tribute!"

I'm pretty sure my heart skipped a beat or two when those words hit my ears, and as I stand there in the middle of the stage with them bouncing around in my head, I can't help but conjure up that silly looking smile from before as I wait with barely contained glee for my newest tribute to arrive. And after ten or so seconds of waiting, the majority of which I spend watching as a small but noticeable bubble appears near the far front side of the sixteen-year-old girl's section, until at long last my brave little volunteer glides out into the center aisle and starts confidently towards the stage.

No, that's not right. I mean, there's really not anything all that 'girly' about this stunning little creature. I mean, no one, and I do mean no one, would normally associate physical traits like this girls bright, seductive blue eyes or flawless lightly bronzed skin with traits you'd expect to find on a 'girl'. Add in the fact that her perfect looking legs and soft curves are on full display in that darling little knee-length dress and sweater combo she's wearing, and you've got yourself a tribute that's a hell of a lot closer to being a woman than she is a girl.

Heck, her only real flaw, and with a body like hers it's hardly a flaw, is that she's a little on the short side. But with her looks I don't see her slightly below-average height, at least for girls from this district, doing anything other than making her that much more marketable in the long run.

"Welcome my dear welcome. As I'm sure you already know, my name is Inala and it's my absolute pleasure to meet you."

"Trust me Inala, the pleasure is all mine."

"That's very kind of you to say….."

"Pearl. My name is Pearl Caspian. But you can just go ahead and call me District Four's next victor if you want."

Oh, I think I'm going to like this girl.

"I like your spunk Pearl, I really do. But let's not get too far ahead of ourselves just yet. I mean, I'm sure your as of yet unselected district partner might have something to say about you laying claim to the title of District Four's next victor."

"And he can say whatever he wants Inala. But it's not going to change anything.

"I've been preparing myself for this opportunity, for this moment, for the better part of the last ten years. I'm smart, I'm fast, I'm confident, and most important of all I'm pretty. My partner would have to be the second coming of Finnick Odair to even have a chance of competing with me. And the same goes for all the other tributes in this year's games.

"Because as far as I'm concerned, all twenty-three of them are competing for second place Inala."

Oh I really, really, REALLY like this girl….

"Bold words indeed, but you sound like the kind of girl that's more than capable of backing them up and then some."

"That's because I am Inala. I didn't wait my entire life for this opportunity, for this honor, to go out and play second fiddle to someone else."

"Oh, I can see that Pearl, and I know I speak for not only myself, but for everyone here in the district when I say I look forward to seeing you back all of this up in the arena. But we'll just have to wait until the time is right to do so.

"And with that ladies and gentlemen, please give a loud and proud round of applause for your newest District Four volunteer, the exceedingly lovely and determined Pearl Caspian!"

I'm pretty sure the crowd was just waiting for an excuse to explode, because no sooner have I finished speaking then they let loose with a roar so loud and strong that I can feel the stage shaking beneath my feet. A phenomenon that's only just beginning to subside despite the fact that I spent almost three minutes showing Pearl off to the crowd, and by extension the Capitol cameras, before leading her to her spot next to the girl's reaping ball and eagerly bounding back behind the podium to select my next tribute.

"And now, as I'm sure you've all probably guessed, it's time for the boys!"

This time around I'm not able to keep my excitement contained, not that I did a very good job of it the first time around but still, and within seconds of the s of the word boys slipping off my tongue I'm racing, honest to god racing, over to the boys ink-black colored kraken reaping ball, ripping a slip of sea-green colored paper that just happened to be peering over the edge of the ball, and sprinting back behind the podium unfolding the paper with all the care and dignity of a child with a sugar rush.

"And our male tribute, the lucky lad that gets to spend the next little while working with the stunning and feisty Pearl is…..Sandor Torrent!"

This time I'm able to get the name out, more so because Sandor's entire name was actually somewhat pronounceable than anything else, but that doesn't stop me from spending the entire time I'm talking from doing my best to listen for what I'm sure is coming. The day's second uttering of my four favorite words in the entire world.

Only…..they never come. Instead, after about a minute or so of awkward waiting in near total silence, a small bubble starts to form in the back corner of the sixteen-year-old boy's section around the young man I can only assume is Sandor. And sure enough, after yet another minute and a half of painfully awkward waiting, I'm greeted by the sight of a tall, slightly awkward and lanky looking young man as he slips between two much shorter boys and into the center aisle.

The good thing about Sandor is that he's every bit as attractive as his partner is. Everything from his short, incredibly soft and silky looking dark-brown hair to his richly tanned skin and mesmerizing green eyes practically screams District Four dreamboat. So as long as he ends up being even a fraction as bold and confident as Pearl is, he just might be able to give her a real run for her money.

God, it feels great to get 'stuck' with two such amazing looking tributes for a change….

"Welcome my dear Sandor, welcome. As I'm sure you can imagine, it's an absolute pleasure for me to make the acquaintance of a young man that's as strong and handsome looking as you are."

"Than….Thank you very much, Inala. And if I might be so bold, you're not half bad to look at yourself."

"Oh, you better be careful young man. You keep talking to me like that and I'm likely to swoon. Provided there's not some mile-long line of equally smitten young ladies I'd have to stand in that is."

"Well, then I guess you're in luck. Because as of now you'd be at the very front of any and all lines of, as you so perfectly put it, smitten young ladies."

"You hear that Panem? Sandor is single and looking to mingle, so you'd better get your requests for him in now before I jump on this fine young man and let him make an honest woman out of me.

"But in all seriousness Sandor, it is a real pleasure to meet you and I look forward to working with you over the coming days."

"And I with you Inala."

"Fantastic.

"Do you have anything else you'd like to say? Anything you'd like your throng of adoring fans to know about you before I whisk you away to the Capitol?"

"Well, you see, the thing about that is….I've never really been much of a talker. I prefer to let my actions do most of that for me and just fill in the blanks as needed."

"Well, I can certainly understand and respect that Sandor. And as long as that remains the case, I get the feeling that you and your partner Pearl will get along just fine.

"And with that in mind, I think it's time for me to call her back over here so the crowd can show both of you just how much they appreciate the incredible sacrifice the two of you are making. And I'm going to let them do so right after I finish wishing all of them a very happy and safe Hunger Games. And may the odds be ever in your favor….."

* * *

 **Sandor Torrent-16 (D4M)**

"You really should try looking on the bright side of things, Sandy."

"Ok, I'm almost positive I'm going to regret asking you this, but just what exactly is the 'bright side' in all this Filip?"

"You um…..You didn't embarrass yourself on national t.v.?"

I'm not sure which is worse, the fact that Filip just made that absolutely terrible joke, or the fact that I'm laughing at it despite just how cheesy and terrible his joke really was. Then again, Filip always has been good at making jokes, even when the situation calls for a much more measured and serious response, so I guess I shouldn't be all that surprised he found a way to make light of what might very well be the single most depressing thing that's ever happened to me.

"Is that….Is that it? You want me to look on the bright side of things even though all you can come up with for the bright side is that I didn't embarrass myself on national t.v.?"

"Do you….Do you really need anything else?"

"Of course I do! I mean, I'm about to be thrown head first into the Hunger Games with twenty-two cold-blooded monsters from all over Panem; and don't even get me started on the district partner that's already made it abundantly clear that she wants me dead.

"So yes Filip, I need just a little more than the fact that I didn't embarrass myself on nation t.v. if you expect me to spend time trying to look on the bright side."

That probably came off sounding a whole lot harsher than it really needed to be. I mean, I know that Filip is just trying to help, and since making jokes is the only way he really knows how to help is by poking and prodding, along with making jokes, I probably should have expected him to attempt to lighten the mood by making a couple of bad ones.

"So I guess I'm….I guess I'm sorry if I upset you and what not. I was just…..I was just trying to put a happy spin on things and I guess I went and got a little….insensitive about how you must be feeling. I guess it's one thing to make jokes about how you for turned that girl you had a crush on into a lesbian, but not about something as serious as this."

"Don't worry about it man.

"And for the record, that girl was a lesbian BEFORE I asked her out."

"You keep telling yourself that bro. You keep telling yourself that."

I don't know what I would do without Filip. He's the only person I know that has the power to make me smile, let alone laugh, even when all I want to do is cry. Hell, he's probably the only person outside of my family that I genuinely love and trust. Which if I'm being honest with myself, is the only reason I feel comfortable asking him to do what I can only describe as the most personal favor I've ever asked anyone to do for me.

"So not to change the subject or anything….But I have a favor to ask and I need to ask it before we run out of time or I lose my nerve."

"What is it, Sandor?"

"I need you….I need you to look after my family while I'm gone. Keep my party animal of a baby sister out of trouble and make sure my parents don't work themselves to death. At least until I get back."

"No problem man. I mean, I can't guarantee anything with your parents, but it would be my pleasure to keep an eye on that cute sister of yours."

Ugh, does he really have to make this into a joke too?

"I'm being serious Filip. I really need you to do this for me."

"I will man. But if your sister and I happen to discover we're in love while I'm keeping her out of trouble, what do you expect me to do?"

"Pretend that I'm standing a few feet away and am fully prepared to beat you within an inch of your life if you make a move on my sister."

"So, the same thing as always then?"

"The same thing as always…."

He spends the next few seconds pretending to contemplate my offer, mumbling to himself and pretending to calculate the possible risks and rewards of helping me out in the air like some our grade school math teacher used to do, before finally throwing up his hands in mock defeat and accepting my terms.

"Fine, you win. I promise to not only look after your family while you're gone, but to also refrain from hitting on your sister as well.

"You just make sure you remember how far out of my way I went to help you with this after you win the Games and become a great big old celebrity."

"No promises Filip."

And it's with that incredibly lame and obviously hollow joke slash threat hanging in the air that I wrap my best friend in what might be the last hug the two of us will ever share just seconds before a heavily armed peacekeeper arrives and leads him out of the room while a second guard leads my grief-stricken parents, as well as my slightly bored and annoyed looking sister, into the room to take his place.

* * *

 **Pearl Caspian-16 (D4F)**

"Did you really have to call out all of the other tributes like that Pearl?"

"What else was I supposed to do daddy? Sit down in the middle of the stage and cry like a baby? Or would it have been better for me to just stand up there and glare mutely at the crowd like some sort of brain-dead brute?"

"Well I think it's pretty obvious that neither of those would have been a good choice, but that doesn't mean your decision to call out every else was a good one either. I mean, would it have killed you to at least try to find some sort of a balance between confident and cocky instead of just going with full-on cocky?"

"But that's how the instructors at the academy told me careers are supposed to act dad, especially if they're going to volunteer for the games like I did.

"And besides, you're the one that taught me never do or say anything that I'm not ready to defend having done or said. And even though I know you might not agree with me on this, saying what I did was the only way I could possibly back up my decision to volunteer."

"I know what I said Pearl, but I never meant for you to take it in such a literal way. Besides, you've had plenty of opportunities to apply that particular lesson before and you never did, so why in the heck would you decide to start doing so now?"

"I don't think it's fair to compare this to what even I knew was an obviously childish and stupid boast that I would be able to navigate the boat back to shore in the middle of a thunderstorm without using the GPS.

"I mean come on dad, even I can tell that difference between what was clearly nothing more than the childish boasts of a ten-year-old girl who was clearly in over her head as opposed to the confident declaration of a very well-trained and proud Hunger Games volunteer. And if I can tell the differences between them then I know for a fact that you can too. So get off my back about it and at least pretend that you're as proud and happy about what I did as I am."

Why in the world did I decide to say that? I mean, I didn't NEED to be so blunt with my words, let alone so dismissive of my dad's admittedly unfounded but still understandable concerns, but I went ahead and did it anyway. All he's trying to do is help and I decide to repay that by throwing his offer back in his face and also demanding that he accept my way of thinking, along with my admittedly shaky reasoning for doing what I did, without ever once even considering that his point of view might be right.

I mean, it's entirely too late for me to do anything about it now, especially since backing off even a little from my incredibly braggadocious statements would make me look both weak and stupid at a time when I really can't afford to look like I'm either. But that doesn't mean I can't at least try to assuage my dad's fears, or at the very least apologize for acting without thinking, before I leave for the Capitol and I have to force myself to continue acting like the super career I was pretending to be earlier. As long as no one ever finds out I did this that is….

"Look dad I'm…."

"Stop right there Pearl. You have nothing to be sorry about.

"I'm the one that should be sorry."

"Daddy no. I…."

"It doesn't matter what I think about what you did, because you've already done it.

"It's just like when you nearly beached the boat when you were trying to catch that dolphin a few years back. Was I pissed after I got the boat out of the sand and back out to sea, sure, but I knew it wouldn't do me or you any good if I yelled and screamed at you because you wouldn't learn anything from your mistake."

"I remember that. You took us back to the dock and gave the crew the rest of the day off before taking us back out to the sandbar and showing me what I had done wrong and how I could avoid doing it again."

"Exactly. And unless my mind is playing tricks on me, you learned more about piloting the ship through dangerous waters from that little lesson then you did from any other source."

"I did. But I'm not sure how that relates to this?"

"It relates because that's the day I learned how to get through to you. It's the day I learned that the only way I can teach you something is by letting you make your own decisions, or mistakes, and then helping you to figure out what went wrong and fix it for next time. Which is exactly what I should have been doing here.

"I can't talk you into understanding why I think what you did was a bad idea; I have to let you come to that decision for yourself. And then, once you're finally ready to admit that you made a mistake, I need to help you figure out what it is that went wrong, where it happened, and how you can fix it so it doesn't happen again."

"But dad you won't….You won't be there to help me do any of that."

"That's what your mentors are for sweetheart. You need to find out which one is the calmest, the most patient, and above all the most understanding, and then turn to her for help once you're ready."

"But what if neither of them wants to help me?

"What if they both decide that I've already painted to big a target on my back to be worth wasting their time and energy to help?"

"Then you go ahead and do what you've always done baby. You force them to see that not only are you not a waste of time, but that you're also only a little bit of help and good advice away from giving them another victor."

I wish I was as confident about all this as my dad is. I mean, what if they do end up thinking I'm not worth their time, or god forbid that my actions today are so out of whack with my action when I finally get around to asking for their help that I must be crazy? And what happens if I never decide that what I did today was wrong? What in the hell am I supposed to do then?!

But I guess there's no reason for me to worry about all of that now, not really anyway. I mean, it's not like I can do anything about the future until I actually get to the future, so worrying about all this stuff that MIGHT happen isn't going to do anything more than give me a headache. So I force myself not to do so. Instead, and with great effort, I push all those worries and concerns from my mind so I can focus on the one thing I do have control over, making the most out of what could be the last few minutes I ever get to spend with my family.

And on that note, I guess it's time to do the one thing I've been putting off for entirely too long as it is.

"Alright dad, I think we've given mom enough time to compose herself. Why don't you go get her and Storm so I can say my goodbyes…."

* * *

 **A/N: First off I'd like to give a very special thanks to POMForever and platypus27 for giving me the chance to bring Pearl and Sandor to life. Both of them are amazing tributes so I hope I did as good a job with them as you were hoping I would when you sent them in.**

 **Well, here we are, another reaping down and we have now officially crossed the 1/3 mark on our journey to the train rides. And the good news is, at least I think this is good news, I'll be done with classes at the end of this week so I'll have a lot more free time to dedicate to writing the chapters, so I hope to be able to get us to district 7 or 8 by the time I go back to class in the middle of January, but with the holidays coming up I don't want to make you all a promise I can't keep. So, just be on the lookout for a potentially slight but noticeable increase in my update speed in the near future. :D**

 **Other than that please review the chapter and let me know what you think of our two newest tributes, as well as the story as a whole, and I'll be looking forward to seeing all of your smiling faces at the District 5 Reaping! :D**


	11. Flipping the Script(D5 Reaping)

**Atlas Rhodes (District 5 Escort)**

I don't think I'll ever get used to the almost pathetically apathetic and dismissive way the majority of the people here in Five respond to what is supposed to be one of the single most fun and enjoyable times of the year.

I mean, I get that there's not a whole lot of tradition and success for them to look back on and reminisce about, but that doesn't mean they can't at least pretend to be as excited about things as everyone else in Panem seems to be.

"You feeling ok Atlas? You're looking a little pale and upset this morning."

I wish I knew how to answer that question, I really do. I mean, do I look my mentor in the eye, the one and only small success I've managed to accumulate in almost thirty-years on the job in this piss-ant district and tell him I'm getting fed up trying to pull a miracle out of my ass when he and his compatriots don't seem to want it? Or do I do what I've been doing for years and lie to his face yet again while trying to find a way to maintain my already small and rapidly diminishing belief that I can, and with enough hard work and determination eventually will, strike gold for a second time as I find a way to escort home a partner for the oh so deserving Nikolai.

And this isn't really isn't the time or place for me to be having a major falling out slash shouting match with someone, I think it's pretty safe to say I'm going to end up going with the latter instead of the former at this specific point in time.

"There's nothing wrong Nikolai. I was…..I was just thinking about today and hoping that it ends up going well."

"You have nothing to worry about with that Atlas. Unless you think yet another incredibly boring and monotone introduction by our thoroughly board and uninterest Mayor is a cause for distress?"

Oh I wish he only knew just how terrible things like that really are for people like me. Because if he did, I can guarantee that he wouldn't be making such an unnecessary and lame joke about it now.

But much like my earlier issues with telling him the truth, this really isn't the time or place for me to be trying to cover up the very real and noticeable gaps in Nikolai's knowledge base. Instead, I force myself to flash him a warm and dismissive smile, before turning my attention inwards and trying to prepare myself mentally and emotionally for the task ahead.

And as luck would have it, I'm given just enough time to do so before the mayor, a portly old man with as much flair and showmanship as you'd expect to find in a childs sock, finally gets around to introducing me to a square full of thoroughly bored and uninterested looking onlookers and potential tributes.

But I don't let that get to me either, and after going through the motions of my own personal introduction with the same level of pomp and circumstances as I always do. And after taking a few precious seconds to pump myself up internally, while also somehow managing to muster the strength of will to plaster a very wide, and obviously fake, grin on my face, I spring into action. And the way I choose to do that is by darting around the edge of my podium and zipping across the stage in the direction of the soft, orange-yellow sun shaped girl's reaping ball and thrusting my hand into the middle of the small mountain of orange-yellow slips of paper.

From there, I decide spend another couple of seconds twirling my hand around in the ball, again in a mostly pointless effort to at least try to help build up a just a smidgen of tension slash anticipation, before snatching up the slip of paper that had previously been sitting at the very bottom of the ball and quickly darting back behind the podium and reading off the name scribbled within as quickly and excitedly as I possibly can.

"And the name of Panem's newest female tribute, and the lucky young lady that's been chosen to represent District Five in this year's Games is…..Nira Valli!"

As expected, my announcement of poor Nira as the newest tribute manages to elicit a very small and barely noticeable response from the crowd, which at this point really shouldn't be a surprise to anyone with even half a brain, but that doesn't mean it's still not just a little on the sad side.

I mean, I get that her name is stupid and all, and I can't for the life of me understand why a parent would be cruel enough to give their kid such a stupid name, but having a stupid name hasn't stopped people from at least pretending to be excited for a freshly minted tribute before. And when you add in the fact that the first few minutes after a tribute is officially reaped, usually the first five or six, are some of the most important when it comes to determining if a new tribute has even the slightest chance of being seen as a threat to win the Games, especially when compared to the Career tributes, and to a slightly lesser extent the non-career volunteers, and this kind of response can not only be soul crushingly disheartening for a tribute to have to endure, but also crippling fatal to their chances of actually making an even marginally respectful looking run in the Games themselves.

And while I still don't necessarily care if Nira, or her still as of yet unpicked district partner, are the first and second tributes to die or the last ones standing before the final battle, I can still sympathise with the fact that walking up on stage without the slightest bit of support or encouragement from the people you're supposed to be representing in the Capitol has got to be an incredibly hard and uncomfortable thing for even the bravest and hardest of people to do.

Unfortunately, at least for her and her already almost non-existent chance of winning, it's starting to look, and more importantly sound, like that's exactly what she's going to end up having to do.

But that silly old fact doesn't stop her from forcing everyone, myself included, from spending an incredibly tense and awkward couple of minutes standing there like morons and holding our collective breath until finally, at long last, we're all treated to the long-awaited sight of a small but noticeable bubble forming, and eventually moving off in the general direction of the central aisle way, in what I can only assume is the eighteen-year-old girls section of the square. And sure enough, that's exactly where it is, and after at most thirty seconds of just slightly less tense and awkward waiting, I, and by extension everyone else in Panem, am finally afforded the chance to get my first good and unobstructed look at Nira.

And what a look it ends up being. I mean, I'm not one to get excited about my tributes, especially since every time I do they have an annoying habit of dying just that much more quickly than normal, but I can't help but marvel at just how amazing Nira really looks. Because damn near everything about her, from her rich caramel colored skin to her head of long, thick dark-brown curls and mysterious grey eyes all but screams the fact that she's sultry and mysterious. Couple that with her lean, sinewy looking frame and the don't you dare mess with me look currently plastered on her pretty face, and you've got yourself as close to perfect a tribute as you could possibly hope for in a non-career district.

Hell, if she's even half as good a talker as she is a looker, I just might have to reconsider my decision to not, as I so perfectly and elegantly put it, 'stick my neck out' in order to help Nikolai with the tributes this year….

"Welcome my dear Nira, welcome."

I decided to punctuate my greeting by offering up what I think is a very flashy looking bow before gently extending my hand towards her in a gentlemanly way that, to my extreme annoyance, she ignores in favor of an obviously forced, and incredibly fake looking smile. After that, it takes her all of about ten or so seconds to casually move around me, as well as my outstretched arm, before nonchalantly strolling off and taking her assigned place in front of the girl's ball.

"Well folks, it appears to me that, in addition to being one hell of a stone-cold knockout, our darling Nira is also one of those stoic women of few words that District Five has become famous for sending to the Games over the years.

"Unfortunately for her, she's met her match in me because I will absolutely not take no, let alone something along the lines of I really don't have anything to say about what just happened, for an answer."

I somehow manage to find a way to say all of that with a surprising amount of jovial sounding playfulness, instead of the venomous anger I have bubbling in my stomach, and I can't for the life of me figure out how I do so. Because it takes everything I have, and I do mean everything, to keep a smile plastered on my face as I slowly and methodically adjust my now creased and wrinkled covered clothes before all but stomping my way across the stage and angrily thrusting my microphone right into Nira's smug and unsuspecting face.

"So, as I was planning to say a few seconds ago, before you so expertly avoided me and my forthcoming questions, it's a real pleasure to meet you Nira."

I've got her trapped now and she knows it. And even though I know I shouldn't, I can't help but smile a bit on the inside as I stare up into Nira's suddenly very worried looking grey eyes and wait for her to respond to a statement she was obviously hoping to avoid having to respond too.

That's right you snot-nosed little punk, squirm…..

"Thank you very much, Atlas. But as I'm sure you can imagine, the pleasure is really all mine.

"After all, it's not every day that someone like me, an honest to god nobody from District Five, gets the chance to meet a real-life celebrity like you."

Damn, that's a…..That's a hell of a good answer. This girl just might end up being even smarter than I'd dared to hope she'd be.

"If you think buttering me up is going to make me go easier on you Nira, then boy oh boy do I have news for you….You're right!"

"Good, that should make what I have to say next that much easier for you to accept."

"Oh I don't think I like the sound of that. You're not about to tell me you don't have anything to say about what just happened, are you?"

"Unfortunately I am Atlas. I mean, I could make something up if you really want me to, but I've never really been all that great a storyteller. And seeing as I've already told everyone that's exactly what I'd be doing, I don't think this is the best time for me to practice doing so…."

I can't….I can't believe that I just let her back me into a corner like this. Not only did she expertly assuage my anger at her earlier snub, but she did so in a way that not only helped make her incredibly relatable to damn near everyone in Panem, but one that also prevents me from asking her any more questions.

I'm not sure if I'm starting to loathe this girl or if I'm falling in love with her….

"Well on that I think we can both agree, and seeing as the crowd looks like it might be on the verge of rioting if I don't hurry up and pick you out a district partner, I think it's probably in everyone's best interest for me to stop running my mouth and do just that.

"But before I do I think I have time to ask the crowd to give a big hand to their newest female tribute, the exceptionally bright and lovely Nira Valli!"

At this point, I'm honestly not expecting much in the way of a response from the people here in the square, so imagine my surprise when, despite my very real and understandable doubts, they respond to my prompt for applause by actually erupting in a small but noticeable smattering of applause. I mean, it's still nothing special, at least not by my standards, but it's a pleasant enough surprise that I'm all too willing to let Nira, and by extension, myself, enjoy for a couple of seconds before moving on with things.

But that couple of seconds is over in the blink of an eye, and once it is I force myself to to spring into action by quickly and efficiently darting across the stage, skidding to a stop a few inches away from the dark-grey colored, storm cloud shaped boy's reaping ball, snatching up the first slip of orangish-yellow paper I happen to touch, and racing back behind the podium before anyone in the crowd has the chance to notice I've moved at all.

"And now we come to the moment you've all been waiting for, the moment when we all finally find out the name of Panem's newest male tribute. Who will not only be blessed with the unimaginable honor of working with his amazing district partner Nira, but also with the privilege of working with me and our absolutely outstanding mentor, the one, and only Mr. Nikolai Watt, in this year's Hunger Games is…..Aiden Tri…."

I don't get the chance to finish reading the name, because no sooner has the T of his last name left my lips then I find my ears being assaulted by the two words no escort wants to hear in the middle of a reaping that has the dual effect of bringing damn near everything to an abrupt and screeching halt.

"No…..NO STOP!"

It takes me all of maybe a fraction of a second to fully absorb the impact of those two god-awful words and another fraction of a second for my blood to start to boil while my heart flips into overdrive and starts trying to beat itself clean out of my chest. But then, just when I think I'm about to die as I start trying to force myself to reread the name scribbled on the slip of paper I oh so recently plucked out of the ball, my ears are treated to the sound of what I truly do believe are the four most beautiful sounding words in the entire English language.

"I….I VOLUNTEER AS TRIBUTE!"

I can't even begin to describe how happy I am to have finally been blessed enough to hear a tribute utter those four magic little words. After all, every escort dreams of escorting a volunteer, event someone like me that knows full well that said volunteer probably doesn't have a snowball's chance in hell of actually winning the games, so it's just a little bit surreal to finally be getting the chance to do so. In fact, it's so surreal that, even though I know full well I should be doing something other than standing here in the middle of the stage like some sort of brain-dead idiot, I can't seem to bring myself to do anything but stand there with a big old goofy looking grin on my face. The fact that I'm doing so while my eyes feverishly scan the crowd in search of my very first ever volunteer, is probably the only reason I don't feel even half as bad about what I'm doing as I know I probably should.

But for a change I'm not left waiting forever for my tribute to turn up, and within forty, maybe forty-five or so seconds of him oh so definitely forcing my reaping to come to an abrupt and unexpected stop, and fifteen or so after he oh so graciously stepped up and volunteered to take the place of the young man whose name I never had the chance to finish reading, I and everyone else are treated to the sight of my first ever volunteer weaving his way through some of the other seventeen-year-old boys in the general direction of the central aisle.

And once he finally makes his way into the aisle, I'm treated to what is either my third or fourth unexpectedly pleasant surprise of the day. Because not only do I finally have a volunteer, but one that also actually sort of looks the part.

I mean seriously, who in their right mind would ever even contemplate the possibility that someone as classically good-looking could possibly live in a place like this? Everything about him, from his incredibly short, dirty-blonde hair to his exceptionally bright and vibrant hazel colored eyes are completely out-of-place in a district as cold and grey as Five. Combine all of that with his slightly soft but obviously functionally muscular looking physique and his above average height, he may be one of the tallest, if not the single tallest men in the district, and you've got yourself a young man who is, without a doubt, the very embodiment of what every male Hunger Games volunteer, even the career's, should strive to be.

Ok, so maybe I'm exaggerating just a little bit, but that doesn't change the fact that my new volunteer is, beyond a shadow of a doubt, the single most attractive and competent looking male tribute I've ever had the pleasure of escorting.

I just hope he's able to talk the talk with the same ease as he's able to look the look and walk the walk….

"Now this is a real treat ladies and gentlemen, it really is. I mean, I've been escorting for this absolutely wonderful district for just a little over three decades, and this is the first time in those two-plus decades that I've had the pleasure of working with an honest to god volunteer. And while that doesn't mean I haven't thoroughly enjoyed working with all of the singularly amazing non-volunteers I've escorted for over the years, which I'm sure will be the case this year as well with the exceedingly bright and alluring Nira Valli, I'm sure you all understand why none of them, even Nira, can quiet compare with the thrill of escorting my first ever volunteer.

"And with that in mind, and seeing as our oh so brave and handsome volunteer has finally made his way to the foot of the stage, I think it's time for me to stop talking and turn the floor over to him instead."

For the second time today I decide to punctuate my little speech with an incredibly playful and flashy looking bow, but this time I'm smart enough to position myself oh so perfectly in the one place on stage that prevents my brave volunteer from pulling the same move Nira did a few minutes earlier, at the very top of the stairs. And with me in that position, oh so perfectly blocking his only possible avenue of escape, my tribute has no choice but to take my hand once I offer it and join me in the middle of the stage for what I know will be a much more controlled and formal introductory interview for him than Nira's was.

"Welcome my dear boy, welcome. Now I'm sure this is going to come off sounding awfully forward, if not just a little bit rude, but I have no idea what your name is and that's a problem. So son, why don't you go ahead and enlighten me, as well as everyone else, as to just what the name of our first ever volunteer actually is?"

"My name is Cliff. Cliff Roseo. And I hope you don't mind me saying so, but it's an honor and a pleasure for me to finally have the chance to meet you, Mr. Rhodes."

"Oh, I can assure you that the pleasure is all mine, Cliff. And for the record, you don't have to be so formal with me son. I'm more than ok with you calling me Atlas if that's what you'd prefer."

"Thank you very much, sir. But if it's all the same to you, I think I'd rather just call you Mr. Rhodes."

"Well, would you get a load of this kid. Not only is he one heck of a looker, just like his absolutely gorgeous district partner, but he's also the most polite and well-mannered young man I think I've ever met.

"Of course I'm almost positive that there's more to you than just good looks and manners. So why don't you tell us all just a little bit more about yourself, Cliff?"

"Well, I'm really not sure just what there is for me to tell you all. I mean, don't let my very sudden and out of the blue decision to volunteer as an indication that I'm some sort of mysterious or interesting individual. Because despite what you may think, I really am nothing more than a normal guy with normal interests and hobbies."

"Oh come on now Cliff. I'm sure there's got to be something about you or your life that all of us would find absolutely fascinating to learn about."

"Unfortunately there's not Mr. Rhodes. At least nothing that I'm in the mood to share now."

"Oh, I see what's going on here. You're keeping things close to the vest in an effort to play up the mysterious angle aren't you?"

"I mean, I guess we can go with that if you'd like. Provided no one is willing to believe that I really am just a normal, boring old kid from District Five that honestly doesn't have anything interesting about himself to share with everyone."

"I think it's pretty safe to say no one is going to buy that particular line Cliff. I mean, even if you're the single most boring person in the world, which I refuse to believe is even remotely possible, there's still got to be something, really anything, about you that worth telling.

"Case and point, why you decided to volunteer for the games in the first place…."

"I see. Well seeing as I don't have a good or even marginally entertaining answer to that specific question, unless you think that my current answer that I didn't think and let my gut make the single most important decision of my young life for me is a good or entertaining answer that is."

"Well I think it's an intriguing answer at the very least, but if you'd prefer to have a little time to come up with a more impressive answer, I guess I can just be patient and wait for Lanteia to pry an answer out of you during your pre-game interview."

"I'd greatly appreciate that Mr. Rhodes, if only because it'll give me a little extra time to come up with an answer befitting your first ever District Five volunteer."

Man, this kid is smooth. In fact, he's so smooth that if I didn't know better, I'd almost this load of crap he's oh so desperately trying to sell. The fact that I don't buy his line, if only because I refuse to believe that anyone would be brave enough to volunteer for the Games without one hell of a good reason to do so, is neither here nor there.

"Well, Cliff I think I speak for everyone here in Five, if not all of Panem, when I say I'm looking forward to hearing what you come up with.

"But I guess you can go ahead worry about sating our curiosity when the time comes. Today is supposed to be all about you, and with that in mind I think it's time for all the wonderful people here in Five to get on their feet and show you, as well as your equally stunning and mysterious district partner Nira, just how much they love and appreciate the two of you by giving you the biggest round of applause in District Five history!

"And while they do that I'd like to wish them all a very happy and safe Hunger Games. And may the odds be ever in your favor!"

* * *

 **Cliff Roseo-17(D5M)**

"What in the world were you thinking Cliff?"

"I'm not…..I'm not entirely sure I know what you're talking about Aya?"

"Don't you try to play smart with me Cliff Roseo. Not now, not when we're talking about something as important and life-changing as this is."

"Ok then, if that's how you want it. You really want to know what I was thinking out there?"

"Yes, yes I do."

"Ok. Maybe I was thinking there was no way in the world I can let your little brother get reaped; or maybe I was thinking that I was probably the only person in the world that wanted to stop him from being reaped that was actually in a position to prevent it from happening; or maybe, just maybe, I was thinking that the only way I could stop your baby brother from getting slaughtered like a lamb in the Capitol was by volunteering to take his place in the arena.

"Take your pick…."

Ouch, that….That came out sounding a heck of a lot more dismissively flippant and condescending than I meant for it too.

I mean, it's not that I didn't mean every word I just said, because I most certainly did, and even though I know she probably loathes having to admit as much, so does my girlfriend Aya; but that doesn't mean I couldn't have found a more diplomatic and tactful way of listing my reasons for deciding to volunteer.

"Look, that….That came out all sorts of wrong and I'm sorry for saying it like that. It's just that I don't….I don't know what else you could have honestly expected me to do in that situation."

"Unfortunately, this is exactly what I expected you to do babe, and if I'm being completely honest with myself about all this, that's the problem, Cliff.

"I mean, you were so willing to jump up and take my baby brothers place you never bothered to stop and think about the effect you doing so would have."

"But that's the thing Aya, I kind of did. I mean, that's the only reason I decided to volunteer in the first place, to save your little brother. And more importantly, I did it so I could save you and your sisters from the agony of having to watch him die in the arena."

"And now I get to watch you die instead of him. And not only that, now I get to sit him down and try to explain why you decided to throw your life away on what even you have to know is probably going to end up being, at most, a one or two-year reprieve. And don't even get me started on your mom and dad."

"Don't you….Don't you do that to me Aya. Please don't bring my mom and dad into this too. I can't….I can't afford to be thinking about them at a time like this."

"I didn't bring them into this Cliff, you did. And maybe it would do you some good to stop and think about how your decision to volunteer is going to affect them.

"I mean, it's going to be hard enough for me to lose you. And the very idea that I could lose the only man I've ever loved, the only man in the world that was willing to throw his life away to save my baby brother, and who did so without a second thought, absolutely terrifies me, Cliff.

"But even with all the being said, I can't imagine what kind of hell your parents must be going through right now. I mean, to potentially lose their only child, their baby boy….."

I don't know what Aya is hoping to accomplish with this. Should I have put just a little bit more thought into the possible consequences of all this before I jumped up to volunteer for this, probably, but it's too late for me to worry about that now. What's more, the last thing I, or anyone else for that matter, needs right now is for one of the six or so people in Panem that I need to believe I can pull this off as long as I put my mind to it, acting like I'm already dead. The fact that my girlfriend is the one doing it, is only going to make it that much harder for me to deal with.

"Are you still listening to me, Cliff?"

"I am, but I need you to do me a favor and stop talking like I'm already dead or something. I need….I need you to at least pretend that you believe I can find a way to pull this off. Because in the end, I did this for you Aya, and if you don't believe I can win, then I have no reason to believe I can do it either.

"Can you do that for me Aya, can you pretend you believe in me and promise that you'll look in on my dad until I get home in a few weeks? Please?"

A part of me knows that I'm all but asking for the impossible, and if the look on her face is any indication, this is one request Aya is much more inclined to decline than she is to accept, but it's a request I know I absolutely have to make. And to my surprise, after almost a full minute of incredibly tense and awkward silence between the two of us, she offers up a small and sad looking nod of acceptance before throwing her arms around me and gifting me the single most passionate and love filled kiss of our near four-year relationship.

And it's in that moment, as I bask in the warmth and love of her kiss, that I feel the first vestiges of tears finally start to slip past my previously unconquerable defenses as the two of us embrace, kiss and even cry together for what even the most optimistic part of me knows full well might be the last time.

* * *

 **Nira Valli-18(D5F)**

"Would it have killed you to at least try to pretend that you were excited to be a tribute Nira?"

"I'm confused. Isn't that exactly what I did mom?

"I mean, I get that I was just a little bit standoffish, if not out-and-out rude and dismissive towards my escort, but I never once made it seem or sound like I wasn't thoroughly excited about the prospect of being forced to fight for my life while a bunch of pompous asses in the Capitol drink and root for me to die so they can win more money."

"You see, that's exactly what I'm talking about Nira. That passive-aggressive way you attack people without actually going out of your way to attack them is going to get you in trouble if you're not more careful about controlling it."

I can't for the life of me figure out why my mom seems to be hell-bent on having this discussion yet again, especially in this particular location and under our current circumstances. I mean it's not that I don't sort of understand her desire to talk about this crap, even if we have had it an average of three times a day every day for as long as I can remember, but that doesn't mean I understand her seemingly unhealthy and irrational desire to have it in the middle of the Hall of Justice during the one small slab of time that's been set aside specifically for her and my dad to say what may very well be their final goodbyes.

And as luck would have it, I think my dad may actually agree with me on this.

"Do you really think that's going to help Serene? Like honestly?"

"I'm not sure Rodrick. Do you really think the only thing she needs to do to win is, as you so perfectly and simply put it, 'go out there and be yourself no matter how hard people make it for you to do so'?"

So that's what this was all about. Part of me knows I should have guessed that my mom was more upset at my dad for telling me to 'be myself,' which in her mind is some sort of nearly insane want to be rebel with a chip on her shoulder, instead of trying to turn myself into the perfect little outer district tribute that says and does all the right things even if doing so kills her a little inside.

Of course, I can't really say I blame my mom, my track record with authority has never been the best but it's been downright abysmal since my older brother was executed, so I can sort of understand why she feels the way she does. The fact that my understanding doesn't mean I'm willing, never mind able, to change who I am just to have a slightly better shot at making it out of the Capitol with my head still on my shoulders, is neither here nor there.

"...I'd just like to think that maybe, just maybe, the two of you would have learned something from what happened to Harrion. But no, you're both the same stubborn fools now that you were before he died."

"That has nothing to do with this and you know it dear. Nothing, and I mean nothing, that Nira says or does is going to change what happened, and it's sure as heck not going to help her hide from the fact that she's the sister of a man who was executed for theft."

"I know that Rodrick!"

"Then why in the hell are you trying to change who she is?! Why are you trying to turn her into something she's not instead of helping her come to terms with and maybe even embracing the person that she is?!"

"Because I can't lose another one of my children Rodrick! I just…..I just don't think I can take the pain of having to watch another one of my babies die on tv because of who they are.

"It nearly killed me the first time, and I'm almost positive that it'll succeed in doing so if I'm forced to live through it all over again."

That last statement is pretty much the conversation killer to end all conversation killers. I mean, I know my mom took Harrion's death pretty hard, maybe even harder than I or the rest of my family did if you can believe it, but I never imagined that it hit her as hard as it so obviously did.

"Mom. You do know that I would never…."

"I know you would never what Nira? Throw your life away in some sort of half-cocked, hair-brained scheme to prove to everyone, yourself included, that you're not going to stoop low enough to take part in the Capitol's games? Or maybe I know that you're not coming home because you'd rather die if that was the only way to keep that stupid promise you made to Harrion that you would never let anyone or anything change who you are as a person?

"Because if it is I'd much rather pretend that I didn't know it so I can continue to pretend that I have a daughter that's more interested in getting back to her family alive then she is in keeping silly promises she made to someone that's already dead."

I can't….I can't even stand to be around my mom when she's like this, let alone talk to her, but I can't seem to bring myself to walk away from her. I mean, this might be the last time I ever see her, and the last thing I want on my conscience if I do end up dying, the last thing I want her thinking about me at the end, is that I put my own foolish pride ahead of what's best for myself and my family.

Unfortunately for her, and I guess myself as well, the promise I made to Harrion, the one she thinks is so childish and unimportant, is the single most important promise I've ever made. And no matter how hard it is for me to admit this, even if it is just to myself, it's not a promise I'm willing to break. Even if the only way I can keep it is to die…..

* * *

 **A/N: First off, I'd like to give a super big thank you to LokiThisIsMadness and platypus27 for submitting the oh so amazing Nira and Cliff respectfully.**

 **So it occurs to me that I might be spending just a little too much time on the Escorts and their backstories at the expense of the actual tributes, and with that in mind I tried something new with Atlas this chapter and I'm very interested in hearing what everyone thinks of this way of doing the escorts as opposed to the longer, more involved and in-depth way I did the previous 4?**

 **Of course I'm also supremely interested in hearing what everyone thinks of brave old Cliff and stubborn little Nira, so please review and let me know so that I'll have something to spur me on to get done with the District 6 Reaping that much faster :D**


	12. Doing What We Have To Do(D6 Reaping)

**Zenobia Spectral (DIstrict 6 Escort)**

"I still don't understand why, with all of the other absolutely beautiful, picture perfect locations they had to choose from, your Mayor decided to build your District's new Hall of Justice in such an, unfortunate location."

"Well, it's like I told you when they broke ground a couple of years back, they picked this specific location because of its historical significance to the district. The fact that it's also just a stone's throw away from the new train station, just made the decision that much easier for them to justify to the general public."

"And I get all that. I may not fully understand how, let alone why, this frumpy, dumpy part of town was ever so important to you people, but I do understand that it was.

"However, my ability to understand that, despite how it may look and smell now, this part of the district is somehow historically significant, still doesn't explain why, in God's name, it was built right next door to a hovercraft engine production plant."

"That's…..That's a little harder for me to explain honestly. Especially once you take into consideration the fact that they waited until AFTER they were nearly half done building the new Hall to stop the plants impending relocation and bring it back online.

"I mean, I'm almost positive that they had their reasons for doing so. And I'm just as sure that those reasons are just as sensible and logical as one would expect. But that doesn't mean anyone with knowledge of them is in any sort of rush to share them with me."

"And as a result, you lack a satisfactory answer as to why your mayor decided to build the single most important building in his district next to what I'm almost positive is the single loudest building in all of creation."

"Come on Zenobia, there's no reason to be like that. Especially since you and I both know there are at least two incredibly good reasons why that's not true."

"Ok. I'm almost positive I'm going to regret this eventually, but I'll go ahead and bite now if only to help pass the time.

"Just what are those two reasons Zefram?"

"Well, the first one is a bit of a no-brainer in that it's I've never given you anything even remotely close to a satisfactory answer in the entire time we've worked together."

Well, I hate to admit this, but it's hard for me to argue with that logic.

"And the second, and in my opinion, much more important factor, is that the machines whose noise you've been complaining about have been shut down the entire time you've been here.

"I mean seriously Zenobia, if you think this is loud I'm not sure you'd be able to survive being around here when these factories are going full blast."

"And with any luck, neither of us will ever have to find out the answer to that question either.

"Heck, the only reason I'd ever even have to worry about it is if one of us pulls our head out of our ass long enough to pull off the one miracle in this life that always seems to be, regardless of how hard we might try, unequivocally out of our collective reach."

I get the feeling that some of that stuff towards the end came off sounding significantly more bitchy and ungrateful than I honestly meant for it too, especially that part at the end about pulling heads out of asses.

I mean, it's not that I don't blame Zefram for his continued failures to give me a victor, which may well be the one thing I want most in this world, because I unequivocally do. But that doesn't mean that I don't fully realize and accept the very real fact that I, and I absolutely loathe having to admit this, even if it is just to myself, deserve a fair share of the blame for at least some our recent run of bad luck.

Unfortunately, more so for my very real, if not just slightly insane, desire for everyone to like me than anything more serious, I'm not given the time to say any of this to Zefram at this particular moment. Because within just a few seconds of the words leaving my mouth, and an even shorter time from the time my brain finally catching up and finishes processing the multitude of ways Zefram, or anyone that just happened to be within earshot, could have possibly interpreted them, I find myself being interrupted by the soft, almost unhearable chime of bells that is supposed to signal the official beginning of this year's reaping broadcast.

And from the second I hear that sound I, as well as the world around me, is slowly but surely inundated with a seemingly unending influx of movement and sound as everyone in the Hall, as well as the few dozen or so people that had been hold up just outside the main foyers fifteen or so exit doors enjoying the unseasonably mild midday summer sun, run all over the place like lunes in a mostly futile, though not entirely unentertaining, attempt to get to wherever it is they're supposed to be as quickly and unobtrusively as humanly possible.

But just like everything else in my life, or more specifically during my career as an escort, that's ever been even the least bit fun or entertaining, this comical explosion of unexpected joy doesn't seem to last nearly as long as I'd like. And before I even really get the chance to start enjoying this cherished little moment of fun, most of it has dried up as the last few stragglers finally get around to finding out just where it was they're supposed to be while the once mind-blowingly intoxicating hum of activity is slowly but surely replaced by the mind-numbingly dull and pretentious voice of District Six's plodding dinosaur of a mayor. And with that being the case, it takes all of five or so seconds for my mind to start to wonder as I settle in for what I'm sure will be yet another fifteen or so minute speeches by a man with a voice so monotone and boring that I'm pretty sure it could put the dead to sleep.

"...But I'm sure none of you are all that interested in listening to a sentimental old man babble on about the past, not when we have such a bright and entertaining future to look forward to.

"Of course the only way for us to enjoy that future is for everyone to get a move on and catch up with it before it passes us by. And as I'm sure you all know by now, there's only one woman in all of Panem that I trust to guide us into the great unknown that is our future. And that woman is the one….The only…..Zenobia Spectral!"

I'm not anywhere close to being ready when he finally announces my name, more so because he got around to doing so in a fraction of the time I've become accustomed to him taking than anything else, and it takes me almost a full minute to collect my thoughts, not to mention beat down an unexpected bout of emotional butterflies, before I'm finally ready to respond to the mayor's introduction. And it's a good thing too, because not only has my unexpected delay allowed the crowd to somehow find a way to slip even further into the throes of apathy than normal, but it also afforded the mayor the chance to collect himself just enough that he appeared to have been mere seconds away from calling for me a second time, which would have been nothing short of a kiss of death for my career, just seconds before I come bounding out the Hall's main entrance and snatch the microphone clean out of his unsuspecting hands with a playfully flirty smile and a wink.

"Sorry to have kept you all waiting like this, but as I'm sure you can imagine it's almost impossible to find your way around inside that monolithic monument your kind and loving mayor oh so graciously built to your districts glory.

"I mean seriously, it was embarrassing enough that I forgot that your mayor moved the Hall in the first place, mainly because I spent the better part of an hour wandering around the old Hall trying to find my dressing room, but to get myself so turned around inside the new building that I was literally wandering around the basement like some sort of lost puppy, is just too much for me to bear.

"And so, with that in mind, and being fully aware that I'm obviously on the verge of losing what few marbles I have left, I've decided that you're just going to have to move the Hall of Justice back to its previous location so I can avoid feeling like a silly old lady. Especially since I'm not that much older than most of the tributes I've escorted."

I'm almost positive that was far and away my single worst attempt at making a joke in my incredibly long and sad history of bad joke attempts. And even though the lameness of the joke doesn't stop the vast majority of the crowd from going out of their way to respond to it by showering me with a resounding chorus of what I can only assume are incredibly forced and undeserved laughs, it does manage to embarrass the ever-loving hell out of me.

And when you couple that with the fact that its only saving graces, that I'm entirely to professional to let my personal embarrassment shine through, coupled with my ability to use the small break provided by the crowds laughter to finish collecting and centering myself before diving head first into the nitty-gritty of my job that is selecting my tributes, does nothing to overshadow the fact that I'm embarrassed by what I said. Which to me makes this is, by far, the single most embarrassing moment of my entire life.

Of course, I also know I can't afford to let my personal embarrassment, no matter how monumental and upsetting an issue I believe it to be, distract me from what it is I'm supposed to be doing. So even though it's going to damn near kill me to do so, I have to find a way to force myself to ignore it until I have the time to deal with it appropriately.

So that's exactly what I do. And by the time the crowd's laughter finally starts to fade into the oblivion from whence it came, I've already carefully reapplied the same fun and flirty grin I had plastered on my face when I took the stage and steeled myself towards the all-important task of selecting my newest tributes. After I find a way to thank the crowd for taking the time to laugh at my horrendously unfunny god awful joke that is.

"You know, I always wondered if I missed my true calling as a standup comedian, and judging by your response to my last joke, I'm starting to think that the answer to that question may very well be a resounding yes. But I'm sure that none of you are really all that interested in hearing me lament what might have been, at least not when we have something that's significantly more important and enjoyable to look forward too.

"I'm speaking of course of the moment that everyone in this square, as well as watching these events from across the breadth of this great nation, has been waiting all year to celebrate. An event so awe-inspiring and amazing, that even someone as well-bred and articulate as me has trouble putting into words just how unabashedly spectacular it truly is to watch as one exceptionally brave and courageous young man steps forward to stand beside one equally brave and heroic young woman against the unquenchable flames of chaos and disorder that continuously threaten to engulf our great nation.

"Of course the only way for those two brave young people to do all of those incredibly brave and selfless things, is for me to select them for the honor of doing so. And since the only way I can do that is by shutting up and kicking this reaping into high gear, I guess that's exactly what I'm going to have to do. Right after I say this one last thing.

"Good people of Panem, it is my unimaginable pleasure to officially declare to you, as well as all of the people here in District Six, that our quest to crown the champion of this, the One Hundred and Fifth Annual Hunger Games, has officially begun!"

It takes the crowd all of a fraction of a second from the time I stop talking to erupt in what I'm fairly confident is the single loudest response to something as mundane and uninteresting, at least in a district that up to this point has been morally opposed to providing me with a volunteer, that I've ever heard in my admittedly short and uninteresting career. The fact that their unexpectedly loud and boisterous response also means that I just might have my first ever opportunity to turn my crowds outpouring of support into a boost in Capitol support slash popularity, which by extension should lead to a boost in overall survivability, for my as of yet still to be selected tributes, just makes this unexpected little treat that much sweeter and more enjoyable.

Of course, my ability to capitalize on any of this is directly tied to my ability to, as my favorite instructor back at the escort academy would say, strike while the iron is hot. The fact that I have to do so while also finding a way to avoid reaping yet another of the incredibly dull and listless tributes this district has gone out of its way to become synonymous with, just serves to make the very idea of doing so all the more challenging.

But I know I can't let the seemingly undoable and monumental nature of my task stop me from doing everything in my power to pull it off. So that's what I decide to do, and within a couple of seconds of my deciding this, and at the very most a minute and a half since I first stopped talking and declared the reaping to have begun, I ever so gracefully glide around the left edge of my podium and saunter across the stage in the direction of the pink stained glass reaping ball that's currently filled to bursting with mint-green colored slips of paper that have the names of every lovely young lady of reaping age in my district scribbled within.

And once I'm finally in front of the ball, which somehow manages to feel like it took me both an absolute eternity yet amazingly no time at all, I'm left with the simple yet monumental task of delicately dipping my hand into the very heart of the oddly shaped and unsteady looking mountain of slips, where I do my best to snatch up the slip that had been previously resting in the absolute center of the pile, before gingerly yanking myself free and seductively sauntering back behind my podium with a mischievous grin on my face as the crowd showers me with yet another outpouring of highly unexpected but still very welcomed applause.

"You know something, as hard as it may be to imagine, I don't think I'll ever be able to get tired of this moment. The palpable anticipation that's so think you can't even cut with a knife, coupled with the low and constant hum of energy from the crowd as I take my place behind the podium and read off the name of OUR newest tribute scribbled within, is by far the single most intoxicatingly enjoyable thing in the world.

"And it's with that, oh so intoxicating energy flowing through my veins that I'm excited to announce that the name of District Six's newest female tribute it…..Reid Stitchell!"

For the third time today I find myself being absolutely floored by the sheer volume of the crowd's entirely unexpected reaction to something I said, and even though I know I should probably do my best to temper my expectations, if only because history has given me every indication that not doing so is incredibly dangerous to my mental health, I can't seem to stop myself from doing so anyway.

But much like that oh so brief and enjoyable moment of fun from the start of the reaping, I'm only allowed to enjoy this incredibly liberating moment of unrestrained optimism for about thirty seconds before I, and to a lesser extent the crowd, finally realize that Reid doesn't seem to be nearly as excited about the fact that she was just reaped as the rest of us are. In fact, it takes her another minute and a half to even start moving towards the center aisle, and the only reason I know that it's her that's actually doing the moving is because it would be impossible for anyone other than a recently reaped tribute to warrant the massive no-man's-land that's currently forming around the mover.

And sure enough, a few seconds later, said moving exclusion zone finally stumbles out of the sixteen-year-old girl's section and affords everyone in Panem with their first look at the young lady I was hoping would be my first ever Hunger Games victor. And it's in that moment that any lingering hopes I might have had of this actually being my year are snuffed out as I'm forced to admit to myself that I couldn't possibly have picked a shittier looking female tribute if I'd tried.

I mean seriously, the one thing I had to avoid doing, literally the only thing, was find a way to not reap an absolute train wreck of a tribute. Hell, if I didn't know any better, and have a half-dozen years of personal experience that proves otherwise to fall back on, I'd think I might have just done the impossible and picked myself out that one in a zillion tribute that's not only completely and totally un-marketable, which makes her all but impossible to sell to all but the cheapest and most foolhardy of sponsors, but also has a less than zero percent chance of making it past the bloodbath.

After all, who in their right mind would be willing to waste their money sponsoring a teenage girl that looks like a little boy? And I don't mean that in jest or anything, Reid, my sixteen-year-old FEMALE tribute, looks more like a ten-year-old boy than she does any sort of girl. Almost everything about her, from the undeniably boyish way she carries herself to her entirely nonexistent bust and slightly malnourished, curve deprived body, practically screams boy. Hell, if it wasn't for her slightly diminutive height and willowy thin frame, coupled with head of shoulder length, glossy dark black hair and soft, slightly feminine looking face that damn near perfectly compliment her oh so pretty and soft, dark-brown doe-like eyes, I'd be willing to swear on my life that Reid was, in fact, a boy.

Which means that the only chance in hell that poor Reid has, and this is admittedly about as small and unlikely a long shot as a tribute can possibly have, is for her to wow the crowd with enough wit and charm that they're willing to overlook the fact that she doesn't look like she'd last more than a half a second in anything that even remotely resembles an honest to god fight. And unfortunately for her, as long as the look of passive acceptance mixed with utter disdain currently etched on her face is any indication, she just might have even less wit and charm then she does physical appeal.

Of course the only way that I'll be able to know that for sure is to talk to her, and I guess there's no better time to do that then right now.

So….Here goes nothing I guess…..

"Welcome my dear Reid, welcome!

"My name, as I'm sure you probably already know, is Zenobia Spectral. And it is my singular honor to not only be the first person from the Capitol to make your acquaintance, but to also be the first person to congratulate you on being the oh so lucky recipient of the immense honor of being selected to compete in this year's Hunger Games."

"Thank you very much for that incredibly kind and welcoming greeting Zenobia.

"And while I'm not exactly sure the two of us are going to see eye-to-eye on that whole lucky to have been chosen for this honor thing, I am looking forward to spending the next week or so working with and getting to know both you and Zefram, not to mention all of the other cool and interesting tributes and Capitol citizens."

"Well would you look at that, not only is Reid easily one of the most attractive young ladies I've ever met, but she's got the manners and articulate flair to prove she's so much more than just another pretty face."

"You're entirely too kind Zenobia."

"Well thank you for saying that Reid. And I want you to know that I really do appreciate the fact that you're willing to take time out of your interview to say something so kind and complimentary about me.

"Unfortunately your willingness to do so has left us short of time, which means that I'm only going to be able to ask you one or two more questions before we have to move on and pick you out a partner."

"I understand that you've got a schedule to keep so that's completely fine with me."

"Fantastic. So, I guess I'll go ahead and start, and most likely end, by asking you the one question almost no one ever wants to answer.

"What is it that you're most looking forward to doing in the Capitol now that you're officially a Hunger Games tribute Reid?"

"Well, to be honest, there's only ever been one thing in life I've ever been truly fascinated by, and I happen to think that the Hunger Games is the absolute perfect place for me to indulge in my curiosity on this subject in a way that might finally satisfy it as well."

"Oh, you see, now you've piqued my interest, Reid. I mean, I could wait until your post-training interview with Celine to find out what this oh so fascinating thing is, but I've never been all that good at waiting. So I guess that means I'm just going to have to beg you to tell me what it is despite the fact that we're running dangerously short on time."

"Well, I mean if you really want me to answer that question now, I suppose I can do so. Heck, I might even be able to do so in a relatively quick and straightforward manner. Since we're running so short on time and all that."

"In that case, I insist that you answer my question so I can satiate my curiosity on the subject now instead of having to wait a whole extra week to do so."

"Ok then, since you insist.

"So, the thing is, I've always been absolutely fascinated by death. Or I guess more specifically, I've always been fascinated by the idea of death. And it's not just the end result of the act that fascinates me in such a deep and intimately personal way, but anything and everything about it. From the very second a person realizes that their death is a very real possibility, to the moment the last vestiges of hope, their last fleeting remnants of life, bleed out of their pleading eyes and fear gripped hearts, to all of the subtle and unexpected little moments in between, is far and away the single most intoxicating thing in the entire world as far as I'm concerned."

See, I knew it. I may not have the slightest clue as to how or why I knew it, but I knew. From the moment the question slipped past my lips to the second the first words of her response slipped past hers, I knew I had made a mistake by giving her a chance to expand on what she had been talking about. Because now, even though Reid is the only one that said any of those incredibly morbid and disturbing things, I can almost guarantee that everyone that's even remotely connected to her, myself included, is going to be saddled with the uncomfortable baggage associated with her horrendously ill-timed statement.

"Well, I think it's pretty safe for me to say that's the first time I've ever heard someone talk so openly and affectionately about such an….Uncomfortable topic. And while I can't guarantee that you'll have the chance to explore your fascination with death as in-depth as you might like, I do believe that you will get the chance to learn at least a little bit about it.

"But that will have to wait for another time. Right now I need to get my derriere in gear and find you a partner. And while I do that I think it would be a great idea for the crowd to show you just how much they appreciate and value the incredibly brave and heroic sacrifice you're about to make on their behalf."

I'm honestly not expecting all that much in the way of response to my all to robotic and uninspired sounding prompt, especially after what Reid said. But to the crowd's credit, as well as my complete and utter surprise, they decide to go out of their way to give Reid a congratulatory round of applause befitting a young woman who actually deserves to win the Games. And after about thirty or so seconds of being on the receiving end of a near constant shower of praise, I lead Reid across the stage to her assigned place in front of the girl's ball before quickly sauntering to the other side of the stage, in the direction of the navy-blue colored stained glass boy's reaping ball, when I find myself skidding to a very sudden and unexpected stop mere inches away from my intended goal.

And it's in those first few fleeting moments after my unplanned little stop, when my mind is doing everything it can to will my heart and my feet back into action, that I'm forced to admit something to myself I never dreamed I'd ever even have to contemplate admitting. I have to admit, even if it is only to myself, that I'm absolutely terrified by the idea of having to reap my other tribute. And it's just not the very real possibility that I could end up reaping a male version of Reid, which seems like a near certainty based on my track record of reaping male tributes that feel like nothing more than a mirror image of my already reaped female tribute, that's got me so frightened. I mean, that is a huge part of it, maybe even as much as forty-nine or so percent, but it's the possibility that I might somehow find a way to pick a male tribute that's even worse than Reid, that's got me trembling in the middle of the stage in a pair of ruby studded eight-thousand dollar heels.

But much like it was with my earlier embarrassment, I know full well I can ill afford to let my fear stop me from doing my job. So after maybe ten or so seconds of standing there pretending to study the small ocean of rich plum-colored slips of paper resting with the boy's ball, I reach out with my still uncertain and trembling hand and quickly snatch up the first slip my unsteady fingers happen to touch, before quickly scurrying back behind my podium and doing everything within my power to calm myself down before I have to read the name of my newest tribute.

"And the exceedingly heroic young man that's been selected to represent all of you alongside the incredibly inquisitive Reid in this year's Hunger Games is…..Axel Bishop!"

I spend the first few seconds after reading Axle's name trying to prepare myself for any one of the seemingly endless number of absolutely terrible outcomes, any one of which could come swooping in at any moment without even the slightest hint that something could possibly be amiss, when all of the sudden I find myself, or more specifically my ears, being assaulted by one of the few disasters I never even considered. Of course, I'm referring to the slow but steady chorus of mind-numbingly painful screams that are currently rising up from somewhere on the far side of the rope line that's currently dividing the reaping eligible boys from their families as well as the district proper.

Naturally this unexpected bout of screaming continues on for nearly a full minute, with the occasional short and intermittent, but still very welcome, break mixed in so that the screamer can take in more air before belting out yet another round, when someone else in the crowd finally answers my unspoken prayer and finally manages to find a way to muffle, though not entirely silence, the screamer just seconds before the poor young man whose selection as a tribute is what forced all of us to listen to this crap in the first place, comes strolling out of the sixteen-year-old boy's section with a look of unfettered concern all but bleeding out of his surprisingly enchanting dark-green eyes.

And it's in that moments, as well as over the next few seconds, as I watch Axle while he slowly but confidently makes his way towards the stage with wide but measured steps and a slightly frightened but somehow determined look plastered on his face, which stands in stark contrast to the one still bleeding out of his eyes, that I'm finally afforded the opportunity to give him the in-depth once over that his appearance, as well as demeanor, never mind my job description, demands that I give him.

And what a once over it ends up being. I mean, I'm not normally one to pat myself on the back for getting lucky while doing my job, but if there was ever a time for me to go ahead and buck tradition by picking a tribute that appears to be the damn near polar opposite of my already selected tribute, this was it. And boy oh boy there must be someone up there looking out for little old me, because I just pulled a rabbit out my hat with Axle.

Because not only is he incredibly handsome, at least by the significantly more rugged and unpredictable standards of his home district, but he also appears to have the height and body type, the latter of which pairs off almost perfectly with his noticeably obvious and functional looking muscles, to make him into a force in the arena. And when you couple that with his previously mentioned mesmerizing dark-green eyes, nearly flawless looking sun-kissed bronze skin, and his chin-length light-blonde hair, and you've got yourself a tribute that, at least as far as looks are concerned, really is the antithesis of his partner in nearly every way imaginable.

I just hope he's not some sort of closet freak that's obsessed with something that's better left ignored like she is too.

Well, I guess this is as good a time as any to find out…...

"Well now, it looks like this just might be my lucky day after all. I mean, it's not every day I get the chance to meet a young man who looks even half as good as Axle does. The fact that I get to spend the next week working side by side with him, as well as his absolutely irresistible face, is just the icing on the cake.

"But I'm getting just a little bit ahead of myself aren't I? I mean, I haven't even shaken his hand, let alone introduced him to the rest of Panem, and I'm already trying to find a way to squeeze every possible second I can possibly spend with him, out of him…."

"That's quite alright with me Ms. Spectral. As a matter of fact, I actually quite like the idea of working as closely with you as I possibly can over the next few days."

"Oh, that's very kind of you to say, dear. And for the record, as I've said a million times before, I'm quite alright with you, and everyone else for that matter, calling me Zenobia. Being called Ms. Spectral has always made me feel so old and that's one thing that I absolutely hate."

"Well, the last thing I want is for someone that's as young, vibrant and beautiful as you are to feel old Zenobia. So I guess I'll just have to go ahead and remember to call you by your first name instead."

"Would you all get a load of this young man. Not only is he one stunningly handsome young man, but he's also exceptionally kind and well-mannered. Throw in the fact that he's got the charm, not to mention the wherewithal to use it, that even the suavest of men can only dream of having, and you've got yourself one hell of a tribute.

"But I'm not out here just to be swept off my feet by prince charming. No, I'm also here to give said prince, should I get lucky like I did today and actually meet him, a chance to introduce himself to the rest of Panem. But seeing as everyone already knows that he's polite, articulate, swarthy, and just a little bit on the handsome side, I guess the only thing left for him to reveal would be something cool or interesting about himself.

"So Axle, do you feel up to doing that or are you content to hold onto that air of mystery for a bit longer and leave things the way they are?"

"Well, considering that I don't have anything to share that's even half as unexpected and shocking as the stuff my new partner Reid shared, along with the fact that I'm not nearly as deep and mysterious a person as I would like to be, I think it's better for me to keep the few secrets I do have tucked away in my back pocket for a later time.

"After all, I still have to navigate my way through a second interview, and I'm not sure I can do that if I share all my secrets now."

"And I respect that Axle. I mean sure, the people in the Capitol might be a little sore at the thought of having to wait to learn more about you, but I absolutely love a man that's willing to hold a few things back. Because there's nothing in this world, not a single thing, that's sexier to me than a man with just a hint of mystery about him….

"Of course there will be plenty of time for me to show you just how irresistible I find a man like that over the coming weeks. Right now is all about you, or more specifically, you and your new district partner Reid, and I think it's past time for all of us to show you just how amazing we think the both of you really are.

"And so, with that in mind, I think it's time for all of us here in Six to get on our feet and show the exceedingly handsome and mysterious Axel Bishop, as well as his incredibly unique partner, the one, and only Reid Stitchell, just how much we all love and support them!

"And while we do, I'd also like to take a moment to wish all of you here in Six, as well as everyone watching across the breadth of Panem, a very happy and safe Hunger Games. And may the odds be ever in your favor!"

* * *

 **Axel Bishop-16(D6M)**

"Was it really necessary for you to go out of your way to shamelessly flirt with your escort on national t.v. Axle?"

"And what would you have had me do instead big brother? Would you have had me stand there like a statue and refuse to answer her questions, or maybe you would have preferred that I do something more along the lines of what Reid did?"

"I don't know what I would have had you do Axle, but anything, with the obvious exception of whatever in the hell it was the Reid thought she was trying to pull, would have been better than standing there and dry heaving while my baby brother shamelessly flirted with a woman that's got to be at least ten years older than him."

"Yeah, but her age is one of the things that makes her so attractive Braker. Because not only does she look spectacular for her age, but she's got the experience, coupled with that oh so tantalizing air of sophistication, that makes a woman like her absolutely irresistible."

I think I just might have finally caught my big brother off guard with that last statement. After almost twelve years of trying every trick in the book, along with quite a few that weren't in the book, to trip up the family genius and I finally manage to do it with what might be the most unexpected and disturbing statement I've ever made.

It's just to bad that no one else was here to see me in what just might be my first and only moment of familial triumph.

"You're not….You're not being serious right now are you Axle?"

"Come on Braker, you know me better than that.

"Look, I'm at just as big a loss for why I decided to flirt with Zenobia as you are. But I can't deny that doing so ended up working so much better than I ever dared to hope it would."

"So now you're saying it was all an act?"

"Of course it was all an act, Braker."

"Do you….Do you honestly expect me, let alone anyone else, to believe that all of that seemingly effortless and enjoyable flirting was nothing more than a con game?"

"Honestly, I don't really care if anyone else believes that's it true as long as YOU KNOW that it's true. Heck, it might even end up being better for me if no one else does believe it because being seen as the hopeless romantic that fell in love with his escort might just end up endearing me to a couple of Capitol sponsors."

"I'm not….I'm not sure I understand what you're getting at with that Axle."

"Oh for the love of. You know Braker, for being the smartest one in the family you sure do seem to have a lot of trouble making heads or tails of common sense sometimes."

"Only when it comes to you and your rather unique and unorthodox take on what common sense actually is."

You know I hate to admit this, especially since I'm almost always on the losing end of our little verbal sparring matches, but I really am going to miss being able to just sit here and argue with my big brother once I leave for the Capitol.

"Well, in that case, let me see if I can break it down in a way that will help a genius like you understand just what it is I'm trying to say."

"Go ahead then smart-ass. Be my guest."

"Ok. So for starters, the only reason I flirted with Zenobia at all, is because she provided me an opportunity to do. And the only reason I flirted as hard as I did is that doing so allows me to stake my claim to a role I just might have to play if I want to have even the slights chance of surviving when I'm in the arena.

"I mean come on Braker, I may be a hopeless romantic, but I'm not nearly hopeless enough to actually fall head over heels in love with a woman whose sole job in this world is to prepare me for the job of murdering other children as punishment for a crime that no one living is guilty of committing. But that doesn't mean I still can't use her, or more specifically her willingness to believe that I'm actually infatuated with her, to give myself a better chance of making it out of this whole mess alive.

"And that means this is what I have to do, regardless of how disgusting and unsavory, never mind difficult, doing so might actually be. Especially since we both know that the only other things I have going for me, my slightly above average good looks and practical physical strength, are going to be all but worthless the second someone decides to compare me to one of those classically beautiful careers that looks like their body was chiseled out of stone."

"I guess I didn't…..I guess I didn't think about it like that. I mean, it still doesn't make me any more comfortable with the idea that my baby brother is shamelessly flirting with some Capitol bimbo that's almost old enough to be our mother than I was before, but I guess that I can understand and support your reasons for doing so.

"And for what it's worth, I'll try and help mom and dad understand it too. As soon as mom clams down enough that I can talk to her without having to worry about getting my head torn off that is."

"Thanks, Braker. You're the best big brother a guy like me could ever ask for."

"It's about time you got around to realizing that. Lotte's been telling me the same thing for years and she's only seven."

"Well, I always have been the slow one in the family haven't I?"

"That you have. I'm not sure that's something you should be anywhere near as comfortable saying out loud as you seem to be, especially when it comes to the fact that our seven-year-old sister runs circles around you mentally."

"Well she's always been bright and inquisitive, so it's really not all that big a surprise to me that she ended up being so smart.

"I just wish she hadn't been too upset to come and say goodbye."

"She'll come around eventually, and when she does, I'll make sure to tell her how much you love and miss her. And then you can spend countless hours answering all her questions about the Capitol once you get home from the games. OK?"

"OK….."

* * *

 **Reid Stitchell-16(D6F)**

"Why did you do something so stupid, Reid?

"You could have gone out there and said damn near anything else and you would have been fine. But for some completely unimaginable reason, you felt the need to go out and admit to the entire world that you're some kind of death-obsessed freak."

I can't for the life of me figure out why my mom is so bent out of shape over this. I mean sure, she's made it abundantly clear that she really doesn't like me thinking, let alone talking, about a topic as taboo and uncomfortable as death, but she also told me that it's always better to tell someone the truth. In fact, at one point she even went as far as to tell me and my little brother Paul, that it's better to tell someone the truth, even if doing so will upset them, than it is to look them in the eye and tell them something that's nothing more than a comforting lie.

But despite all that, despite being told since before I could even walk, that lying is one of, if not the out-and-out worst, things a person could possibly do, she's still berating me for not making up a more socially acceptable answer to Zenobia's incredibly direct and personal question.

"Are you even listening to me, Reid?!"

"Of course I'm listening to you mom. I'm just trying to understand why you're so upset that I told Zenobia the truth when you've always told me that lying is bad."

"That's the thing, Reid. Lying is bad, but you and I both know that you didn't have to lie in order to answer Zenobia's question. All you had to do was tell her about one of your lesser interests, like making new friends or learning about and exploring new places, and this whole mess could and probably would have never happened. Instead, you went out of your way to embarrass yourself, not to mention shame your entire family, by admitting to being fascinated by something that no one in their right mind would ever even consider admitting to being interested in."

So that's why she's so upset. It's not just that I was willing to share an uncomfortable truth with everyone, it's that in doing so I made her and dad look bad in front of the entire district. Never mind the fact that her only daughter is about to be shipped off to the Capitol to fight a bunch of other kids in a twenty-four person free-for-all deathmatch, she's more worried about having to face her friends knowing that they know her daughter is not only absolutely fascinated by very idea of death, but also by all of its very small and subtle taboos and nuances.

"This isn't really about me anymore, is it mom?"

"What are you….What are you trying to say, Reid?"

"I'm saying that this isn't about me anymore and we all know it. It's about the fact that you're embarrassed at the fact that, for the rest of your life, or at the very least until we get another tribute from our district to say something even dumber and more inflammatory than what I said, you're going to be known as the mother of the crazy tribute that was obsessed with death.

"That's all you actually care about and we all know it. So stop pretending that you're worried about me or how what I said might affect my chances of winning, and just admit that you don't actually care if I survive this crap or not.

"In fact, it's probably better for you if I don't survive, because you might be able to squeeze enough sympathy out of my death to get people to avoid talking about me and my unsavory interests wherever you happen to be around."

I can't believe I just said that. It's not that I didn't mean each and every word that came out of my mouth, because I more or less did, but that doesn't mean there probably wasn't a much softer and understanding, or at the very least slightly less confrontational, way I could have gone about saying it.

Then again, why in the heck should I be worried about my mom and her feelings when it's obvious that she doesn't give two craps about me or mine?

"You know your mom loves you, Reid, so do I and your brother. We just wish you hadn't said something so polarizing taboo that it all but destroys any chance you might have had of surviving the Games."

"Come on dad, we all know that I have no chance of winning the games and nothing that I said or didn't say when I was out there on stage was ever going to change that.

"From the second Zenobia picked that little mint-green colored slip of paper with my name on it out of the ball I've been living on borrowed time. You know it, mom knows it, I know it. Hell, I'm pretty sure Paul knows it and he's just barely old enough to even understand what's going on."

"Don't….Don't say things like that sweetheart. Not in front of those of us that love you."

"Why not dad? Is this another one of those situations where telling the truth is somehow worse than lying or do you just not what to hear it?

"Because regardless of which one it is, nothing can change the fact that I'm already as good as dead and we all know it. The only things about this that still need to be decided, are how I die, when I die, and if I decide to turn myself into some sort of dancing chimp on the off-chance doing so will allow me to secure the sponsors I need to delay the inevitable by a day or two."

I can tell that neither of my parents was expecting me to react as strongly and definitely to all of this as I did, and even though I can sort of understand where they, or at the very least my dad, is coming from, I absolutely refuse to apologise for saying the things that I did. I mean seriously, my mom spent the better part of like five minutes yelling at me for saying what I said, and then once I've finally had enough and bite back, my dad finally jumps in, it's only to insist that I've completely misunderstood her reasons for acting the way she did.

But I'm not buying it, and the reason for that is because it's become pretty obvious to me that neither of my parents actually care about me. And since they don't care about me, I have no reason on Earth to continue to care about them. And since they don't care about me and I don't care about them, I have no reason to be ashamed of who I am, just because it might embarrass them.

My name is Reid Stitchell, I'm sixteen-years-old, and I'm absolutely obsessed with death. That's who I've been for most of my life, and it's who I'm going to be when I finally meet my end in the arena in just a little over a week. I just hope and pray my death doesn't come so soon that I never get the chance to study death up close by watching how a few of the other tributes react to their impending deaths…..

* * *

 **A/N: First off, I'd like to give an extra special thank you to Jayfish and maddyodair, for trusting me enough to send in the oh so fun and amazing Reid and Axle respectively. :D**

 **Well, we've done it. You might have thought we'd never get here, but through sheer force of will, and an insane amount of luck mixed with just a small pinch of magic, we've finally managed to make it to the halfway point of the REAPINGS! And that means it's all downhill from here, figuratively speaking, as I hope that things will start to pick up a bit with respect to update speed, especially since this was the last chapter I had started BEFORE deciding to adjust the length and detail of the Escorts backstory. And while I'm still not able to give specific update dates, as I've done in the past and some of you have asked for again, because my schedule is significantly more fluid and chaotic than it was in the past, I should be able to start getting stuff out at a slightly faster pace all the same.**

 **But those are concerns for a different time, and a different Zack, as the current Zack is much more interested in hearing what everyone thinks of Reid and Axle? So please go ahead and drop a review on them, along with any suggestion you may have for how I can make the story more enjoyable for all of you, and I'll look forward to seeing all of your happy and smiling faces at the District 7 Reaping! :D**


	13. We All Fall Down(D7 Reaping)

**Zipporah Cronin (District 7 Escort)**

"You know, the two of you truly are blessed to live in such an absolutely beautiful and vibrant district. I mean sure, the Capitol is stunning, with its amazing blend of neoclassical architecture and state of the art everything, but even it can't hold a candle the ecological majesty that seems to fill every nook and cranny of District Seven."

"Oh come on Zipporah. That's a load of crap and you know it.

"Hell, the only reason you think this place is so great in the first place is because you only have to visit it once or twice a year. Because if that wasn't the case, I can almost guarantee that you'd be just as indifferent about the district, not to mention all of its so-called 'ecological majesty,' as everyone that lives here is."

"Oh, I wouldn't be so sure about that Johanna. After all, I live in the Capitol full-time, and I'm still just as captivated by all of its beauty and majesty now as I was when I first laid eyes on it as a little boy.

"Besides, I'm almost positive that most of the people here in Seven aren't anywhere near as cold-hearted and cynical as you'd like to think they are."

"I think you just might be greatly underestimating how easy, never mind common, it actually is for someone to be a cold-hearted cynic Zipporah. Especially if they have to live out here in the oh so aptly and colorfully named 'outer districts'."

I know by now there's no chance in hell of me coming out on top of this little back and forth I've got going with Johanna. It's hard enough for me to win a back and forth with her when our entire discussion is rooted in nothing but universally accepted facts and generally provable logic, it's been that way since I first met her and has only gotten worse in the decade since. And with that fact in mind, coupled with the copious amounts of first-hand experience that helped me learn and confirm its validity, you'd think I would be smart enough to avoid letting myself get drawn into them in the first place.

Which isn't to say I don't enjoy them, because in a super strange and sort of unexplainable way I do, just that it would behoove me to pay more attention when she's trying to draw me into one so I can avoid getting suckered into engaging her in some of the more fiery and contentious ones.

Then again, there's a pretty dang good chance that I would die of boredom if I ever actually did decide to start doing that, especially since Johanna is the only one of Seven's five surviving victors that's willing to discuss non-game related topics with me while we wait for the Mayor to finish his yearly ego stroking and introduce us to the crowd. I mean, I guess I could always try to pry poor James away from his overbearing glory whore of a wife by pretending that he and I need to discuss business for the upcoming year and then immediately changing the subject once we're out of earshot, which might work since the only reason I have to include him on my list of four victors that won't discuss normal stuff with me is because of that unbearable bitch, but I'm not sure how many times I'll be able to get away with doing so before she catches on.

Which means, and I absolutely hate having to admit this, it's probably in my best interest to just go ahead and save that trick for a rainy day, or at the very least a day that Johanna seems hell-bent of starting an honest to god fight instead of just engaging in a little good-spirited conversation, and continue to fill the downtime I have during the mayor's ego stroking speech, in much the same way I always have. Playfully arguing with Johanna until one of us, usually, me, has finally had enough of the others crap and concedes defeat while silently swearing that we'll be the one to win the next go-round, while also silently praying that the mayor develops a case of sudden onset laryngitis mid ego-stroking and has to stop running his mouth and do his job before he loses his voice entirely.

And speaking of that pompous windbag actually doing his job….

"...Because I know all of you are just as ready and eager to celebrate the acquisition of yet another District Seven Hunger Games Champion as I am. And the only way we can get ourselves that champion, is by getting ourselves a pair of tributes to compete in this year's games. After all, you can't win the game, unless you play the game.

"Of course the only person in Seven that has the power to turn a regular old person into a tribute that's capable of winning the games, is our oh so lovely and amazing Capitol Escort. And so, it is with great pride and unmatched humility, that I now introduce to all you fine people, the one, the only, Zipporah Cronin!"

I don't think I've ever heard this crowd respond to my introduction in anything that even sort of resembles the surprisingly loud and jovial way they are now. And while there is a small, almost childlike, part of my brain that would love nothing more than to take as much time as I possibly can to enjoy this unexpected outpouring of enthusiasm, the logical part of my brain knows that doing so would be nothing short of the single biggest and most unforgivable mistake I've ever made. After all, even the greenest of green escorts knows that you have to strike while the proverbial iron is hot, because even they know that's when an escort has the best chance of making even the lowest and most pathetic of recently chosen tributes appear to have a real chance of coming out on top in the arena.

And seeing as I feel like I've gone entirely too long without escorting a victor as it is, I would be a fool to pass up a chance to make doing so as easy as I possibly can. Even if that means I have to pass on enjoying something that I've only had the pleasure of enjoying a handful of times in my entire career.

"Thank you ever so much for that incredibly warm and stirring introduction Mr. Mayor. And while this may seem just a wee bit out of character for me to say, I'd also like to give an extra big and special thank you to all of you wonderful people here in the crowd as well.

"After all, it's not every day that someone that's been doing this job as long as I have, finds himself so moved by the outpouring of love and raw emotion, that it's all he can do not to weep like a child at its presence.

"But there will be a better time, a better place, for me to reflect on all of that. Because right now, I have a singular honor of completing a task that everyone in Panem dreams of being asked to carry out, that only a chosen few are ever lucky enough to be blessed with the opportunity to do. And the honor I speak of, as I'm sure you all no doubt know, is that of being chosen yet again to select the District Seven tributes for this, the One Hundred And Fifth Annual HUNGER GAMES!"

I decide to underline my last statement by giving the crowd a few extra seconds to finish absorbing my words, and it's a good thing too. Because within what feels like a literal millisecond of the word 'games' slipping past my lips, the crowd absolutely explodes in a bout of ear-splitting, ground shaking cheers and applause. The fact that all of this is so out of character for them that I'm honestly starting to think that aliens might have clandestinely abducted and replaced all of them in some sort of unimaginably nefarious plot to take over the world, is neither here nor there.

Hell, if I didn't know better, and at this point, I'm seriously starting to doubt that I actually do, I'd think that the people of Seven were actually looking forward to this year's Hunger Games. A fact which, as crazy and far-fetched as it normally is, seems to be supported by the totally appropriate, if unexpected, way they've reacted to their first two on-air prompts for applause.

Of course, there's only one way for me to know that for sure….

"Well, it's starting to sound like all of you here in the crowd are just as anxious to get the ball rolling as I am. And seeing as I'm not nearly dense enough to ignore the oh so evident desires of a group of people with the means and ability to chop me up into a zillion little pieces and plenty of room to hide the evidence, I think it's time for us to, as I so eloquently put it, get the ball rolling on this year's festivities with the highly anticipated selection of District Seven's newest female tribute…."

Once again, I find myself being absolutely floored by the unimaginably loud and robust way the crowd responds to my otherwise simple and uninteresting words. And even though I know I full well that I shouldn't, I can't help but allow myself to get swept up in all of the excitement as I strut my way across the stage in the direction of the massively oversized, light-brown wooden reaping ball that's been filled to bursting with slips of soft leaf-green paper with the names of all my potential female tributes scribbled within the center of their oh so elegantly folded edges.

Of course getting myself to the ball in one piece is the hard part, at least when I'm trying to play up my confidence by strutting confidently from one end of the stage to the next, and by the time I finally get to the ball the crowds once deafening roar has been largely petered out in favor of a low but still most distinguishable growl. But I don't let that stop me from smiling happily as I thrust my hand into the middle of the small ocean of papers, gently stir them to and fro in a playful way, before gingerly yanking a single slip of paper out of the ball from somewhere near the bottom of the ball and holding it triumphantly over my head with an incredibly mischievous, almost childlike grin plastered on my lilac tinted face.

"And it looks like the name of the lucky young lady that's been chosen to receive the honor of being District Seven's newest female tribute is…..Julie van Vigne!"

I spend the first few seconds after reading Julie's name standing behind the podium with a stupid looking smile on my face as the crowd explodes in yet another bout of near-deafening adulation, for what I'm almost positive is a now record-breaking the third time in three opportunities, as each of the reaping eligible girls in the square takes her turn looking around in a mostly vain effort to be the first one to catch a glimpse of our newest tribute. And sure enough, it takes all of about sixty, maybe sixty-five seconds for one of the more alert and inquisitive looking young ladies in the crowd to do just that.

Of course, that's where the good news ends. Because within seconds of that young lady in the crowd scoring her first look, everyone in the country is afforded theirs as an abnormally small looking little girl with a head full of incredibly unruly dirty-blonde hair that just reaches the tops of her shoulders and big, almost perfectly round looking blue eyes, comes stumbling out of the crowd and into the center aisle. And it's in that moment, when the eyes of the world are fixed ever so perfectly on my newest tribute, that I feel every ounce of excitement and energy that had been permeating every inch of the square just a few seconds earlier, being drained out of the crowd and quickly replaced by a feeling I can only describe as incredibly sad and uneasy resignation.

And based solely on my initial impression of Julie, as well as her obviously nonexistent chance of having something that even kind of resembles a marginally respectable run in the arena, I can't say I honestly blame everyone for reacting the way they are. And it's not just because of her physical appearance, which to reiterate could easily get her mistake for a girl half her age, but the very real and palpable fear that's not only bleeding out of her big, childlike eyes, but seeping out of every fiber of her being. Which means that, in short, Julie is the kind of tribute that no one, not even the wildest and craziest of Capitol sponsors, would ever even pretend to consider sponsoring.

And it's too bad too, because she very well could be the single most adorable looking little girl I've ever laid my eyes on….

"Well now, this is a very rare and unexpected treat if I do say so. After all, it's not every day that I, and by extension all of you, are afforded the privilege of meeting a young lady that as shockingly cute and undeniably adorable as little Julie is.

"Now I hope you don't mind me saying all of that Julie. I know you're probably cut from the same tough as nails cloth as everyone else here in Seven is, but I couldn't resist letting everyone know how lucky I feel to be escorting such an adorably cute little tribute."

"Could I….Could I take off my shoes now please?"

What in the hell….What kind of response to being told you're cute is that supposed to be?

"I'm sorry Julie but I don't think I heard you right. Did you just ask if you could take off your shoes?"

"Yes."

Oh for the love of….That's just fantastic. Not only did I somehow manage to pick what might be the single smallest tribute in the history of tributes, which is a small miracle in of itself, but I just had to go ahead and pick one that apparently has all the wit and social graces of rock.

Not that's not right, even a rock has enough social awareness not to respond to being told that someone thinks it's cute by asking if it can take its freaking shoes off.

"Julie dear. Why would you….Why would you ask me if it's ok for you to take your shoes off at a time like this?"

"Because they're hurting my feet.

"I know my mommy told me that I'm supposed to wear them whenever I'm not at home, but they keep pinching and squishing my toes together and it really hurts."

Oh this is just going to keep getting better and better, isn't it?

"OK, now understand what you're saying, Julie. Unfortunately, I don't think it's a good idea for you to take your shoes off out here on the stage."

"But they hurt."

"I understand that sweetheart. But the stage is so hot that I'm afraid you'll burn your poor little toes if you don't have your shoes to keep them safe."

"But they really, really, really, really, really, really hurt."

Well, this is getting us nowhere slowly. Maybe it's time for me to try a different approach to all this.

"Well I certainly don't want you to be in any pain Julie, so how about we go ahead and do this. Why don't you give me thirty, maybe forty more seconds of wearing your shoes out here with me, which should be just long enough for me to show you off to the crowd for the first time as an official tribute? And once we're done with that I'll have someone take you inside the Hall of Justice so you can take your shoes off without burning your poor little toes. Deal?"

"Deal!"

"Ok then. It looks like the both of us have said everything we want to say and that means it's time for us to go ahead and do what it is we want to do. Julie wants to take her shoes off and I want to find this absolutely adorable little angel someone to hang out with while she's in the Capitol. Of course, the only way we can do that is for me to stop running my mouth and move things along, so that's what we're going to do.

"And with that in mind ladies and gentlemen, would you be so kind as to get on your feet and get loud for District Sevens newest female tribute, the oh so cute and adorable Julie van Vigne!"

The audience reacts to my prompt almost exactly like I'd expected them too, by showering poor little Julie a small and thoroughly unimpressive smattering of cheers for a couple of seconds before drifting off into a daze and trying to forget that any of this ever happened. Unfortunately for me, I don't have the luxury of doing the same, and within a couple of seconds of my passing off a very uncomfortable and fidgety looking Julie to a very pissed looking Johanna, I'm slapping what I hope is a calm and confident looking grin on my face and strutting off in the general direction of the boys reaping ball.

Of course, this time around I don't have early as much trouble getting to my destination, do in large part to the fact that I never even considered trying to milk this strut like I did the first one. Of course the fact that I'm not milking the strut means that it takes me just a second or two longer to do everything involved with the selecting of my male tribute, including the whole playfully stirring of the papers around in the ball thing I've sort of made into a sort of personal trademark, than it did for me to walk from my podium to the girl's ball the first time around.

Of course, I'm almost positive that no one in the crowd, let alone me, honestly cares that I'm not taking my sweet time with this. So even though I know I'm probably going to have to run a wee bit of damage control with some of my peers in the Capitol for NOT milking this thing for all it's worth, which is practically escorting one-oh-one, I force myself not to focus on the task at hand instead of worrying about what might happen tomorrow. And it's with that in mind that I slowly but calmly unfold my recently chosen slip of paper, stare down at the oh so elegantly calligraphed name scribbled within, and casually announce it to the crowd in what I hope is a voice that at least sort of resembles the one of childlike glee I had when I read Julie's name.

"And our male tribute, the lucky young man who will have the unimaginable….privilege, of working side by side with the oh so cute and bubbly Julie is…..Ives Dusket!"

This time around there's no fanfare from the crowd to accompany my announcement. There's no cheering, there's no whooping, there's no hollering, there's no…..There's no nothing! And while a small part of me is sort of ok with that, if only because it might, if I'm lucky, help to temper expectations just a little bit, I can't help but wonder just how adversely the crowds lack of engagement in all of this is going to hurt Ives before everything is said and done.

Fortunately, at least for me, I'm not given all that much time to worry about that particular issue. Because within half a second or so of my starting to do so, and an absolute maximum of thirty seconds after reading his name, I'm treated, if you can really call it that, to the sight of an incredibly irritated and pissed of looking young man that can only be Ives, shouldering his way past a small gaggle of young men on the inside edge of the eighteen-year-old boy's section and out into the central aisle with a surprisingly audible and disgusted sounding grunt.

Now, there's a part of me that wishes he hadn't let that grunt slip out, or at the very least had found a way to let it slip in a less attention-grabbing and noticeable way, because his potentially bad attitude is the only readily apparent negative trait he seems to have. And while it's impossible for me to know any of this for sure, at least until I get the chance to talk to him, I can't help but feel just a little sorry for him. Because even though everyone in Panem, Ives included, knows full well that being chosen as a Hunger Games tribute is the single greatest honor anyone living outside the Capitol can ever hope to receive, doesn't mean that they necessarily want to receive it under these kinds of circumstances.

After all, in a normal year it would be incredibly easy for me to sell Ives to a fair number of sponsors based solely on his physical appearance, it would be hard, if not downright impossible, for me not to be able to sell sponsors on a reasonably tall and relatively good-looking young man, especially when his enchantingly alluring amber tinted eyes and medium length dark hair, the fringes of which seem to be constantly threatening to drown his already dreamy eyes in a pool of mysterious darkness. Add in his beautiful sun-kissed tan skin and tight, perfectly proportioned and decently muscled young male frame, and you've got yourself an outer district tribute that just might be able to give the career tributes a run for their money in the classical good looks department.

I just hope he's got one hell of a good excuse for grunting in disgust like he did earlier. He's going to have a hard enough time overcoming the stigma of having to share a district, not to mention a pair of mentors and a world-class escort, with poor little Julie. So the last thing he needs is to also have to overcome being labeled a disgruntled malcontent.

"Welcome would you take a look at this everyone. I started out the day by selecting an absolute peach in Julie, and it looks like I'm going to end it with the selection of an absolute gem in Ives."

"Oh, I don't know if I'd go so far as to call me a gem Zipporah. I'd hate for you to get mad at me or call my effort into question, because you went ahead and put the cart in front of the mule before you had the chance to actually get to know your mule."

"Would you get a load of this kid. We've known one another for all of what, half a minute, and he's already throwing shade at me like an absolute pro.

"You know Ives, if you keep that up you're going to have the men in the Capitol going out of their way to sponsor you in the arena, and don't even get me started on how crazy you're going to drive the ladies. With your good looks and this award-winning personality, you're going to have them falling all over themselves just to get a better look at you."

"Again, I hate to burst your bubble Zipporah, but I'm afraid you might be putting the cart in front of the mule with all of this. I mean I really hate to ask you this, but what in the world do you see in me that makes you think I have even the slightest interest in pandering to all the brain-dead sycophants in the Capitol?"

Oh for the love of, please tell me he didn't just say that. I mean seriously, no one, not even Julie, who may very well have the mind of a child to complement her social graces, is stupid enough to go out of their way to insult the people who in just a few short days could very well be the only thing standing between them and a very early and hideously gruesome death.

"I'm sorry Ives but I….I must have misheard you. It sounded like you called everyone in the Capitol a sycophant, which I know for a fact is not what you intended to say."

"No, you didn't mishear me Zipporah, because that's exactly what I just said."

"Well, in that case, I really don't think there's anything else for us to say then. Is there?"

"I wouldn't think so."

"Fantastic. And since we don't have anything more to say I guess it's time for all of us to get loud one more time and show the rest of Panem just how much we love and appreciate our two newest tributes, the wide-eyed and inquisitive little peach that is Julie van Vigne and her incredibly...Her district partner Mr. Ives Dusket!

"And of course I'd like to wish each and every one of you here in the square, as well as all of you watching across the breadth of this amazing nation, a very safe and happy Hunger Games. And may the odds be ever in your favor!"

* * *

 **Ives Dusket-18 (D7M)**

"Who's going to finish carving the Mr. and Mrs. Maples dresser now that I can't?"

"Is that really something you need to be worrying about right now Ives? Seriously?"

"Of course it's something I need to be worrying about mom. I have a good thing going with Mr. Sinclair and I take the trust he places in me, not to mention my job, very seriously."

"And that's one of your most admirable traits Ives. Especially since most kids your age, and a decent chunk of the young adults that are older than you, are anywhere near as dedicated and loyal as you are.

"But there's a time and a place to be worried about trivial things like who's going to finish carving and staining a new dresser, and this isn't one of them Ives. It's just….It's just not."

"And what would you rather I be worrying about mom? That I'm about to be shipped half-way across the world to fight and possibly die in the name of entertainment? Or how about the fact that my dad and older brothers were more concerned with keeping their promise to finish clearing out the trees in subgrid c-six than they were in spending time with and saying goodbye to me?"

"That's not their fault Ives and you know it. All of you promised the foreman that you would go in today and finish that job as soon as the reaping was over. There was no way any of you could have known that you were going to get picked for the games.

"I mean, the odds of that happening were astronomical that none of us ever stopped to consider the fact that it might actually be something that we have to worry about."

"I'm not blaming them for making the offer mom. And in reality, I'm really not even all that mad that they decided to keep their promise and go in after I got reaped.

"Dad's never been the most emotionally open person in the world and when anything bad happens he has a habit of burying himself in this work and hoping that it all goes away. And since we both know that Toller, Edmond, Gadmin, and Aster were never going to let dad try to finish a job of that size without help, it's not all that surprising that they chose work over me. After all, I am sort of the oddball in the family."

"You know Ives, I really do wish you'd stop calling yourself an oddball all the time. Sure some of your interests and tastes may be a little more….exotic, than the rest of the family. But that doesn't mean you're not just as normal as everyone else."

"Hey, I never said I was some sort of general case oddball or anything, just that I was oddball as far as the rest of the family is concerned. After all, I'm the first, and to this point only, member of the family that doesn't want to spend the rest of his life chopping down trees in what, three, maybe four generations?"

"Is that….Is that why you seem so calm about all of this? Because you see the Games as a way to escape having to finally tell your father and brothers that you've accepted a full-time job carving furniture with Mr. Sinclair?"

"How did you….?"

"How did I know that you took the job full-time? Because I'm your mother and I know everything there is to know about you, Ives. Even the stuff you think I don't."

I'm not sure what's worse, the fact that my mom already knows that I took a job so far outside of the family business, or that she all but admitted to spying on my every move, in what I'm sure is a very motherly and roundabout way of course.

"I was….I was actually planning to tell all of you that I had taken the job over dinner tonight. I just wanted to wait for the right….For the right time to tell everyone and I sort of figured that…."

"That we would be more accepting of the news if it came in the aftermath of you finally making it safely through the seven-year crucible that is Hunger Games eligibility?"

"Ok, seriously, are you like some sort of secret mind reader and this is your way of telling me that I might be too or….?"

"I told you already Ives, I know all of this because I'm your mom and it's my job to know it.

"But I'll have plenty of time to teach you how that particular trick works once you finally settle down and have your own kids. You know, when knowing how to read your kids will actually come in handy."

I'm not sure how I'm supposed to respond to that. I mean, do I tell her the truth, which is that I have a significantly better chance of getting mutilated on national t.v. than I do of making it back?

Fortunately for me, I'm not forced to make a decision on that one way or another. Because no sooner have I started to try to decide which way to go, my mom pressing something into my hand as she leans in and whispers to me in a terror laced voice that last words I might ever hear her say.

"You gave this to me five years ago when you first fell in love with carving. You said….You said that as long as I had it with me, I would always be carrying a piece of you too.

"So I want you to take it with you and use it as a little reminder of the life you're fighting to come back home and live..."

* * *

 **Julie van Vigne-12 (D7F)**

I really wish I knew why my mommy was crying so much. I mean, I may not be the best a fixing grown-up people problems, but I know I could make my mommy feel better if she would just tell me what was wrong with her.

I mean, I guess I could always just walk up and ask her to tell me what's wrong. It's just that….When I tried to do that a few minutes ago it not only made her cry even harder than she already was, but it also made my grandma and little sister Ryna start crying too. And since my grandpa only just got done getting the two of them to stop crying, I really don't want to do anything that will make them start-up again.

"I just….I just don't understand why this….Why this had to happen to her. She's so…..She's so young and full of….Full of life that it seems so cruel to take all that away from her."

"I don't know why it happened sweetheart, I honestly don't.

"What I do know is that you've got two very frightened and confused little girls, one of whom is about to be torn away from the only world she's ever known and forced to fight for her life, and another one that's not entirely sure what's going on but is terrified nonetheless, who are both counting on you to be the strong mom that they've always been able to count on to save them from things like this."

I don't think I've ever heard my grandpa talk like that to anyone, not even that guy he got mad at for breaking our window when he was cutting down the dead tree next to our house. But that's not what scared me the most, it definitely scared me but it's not the number one thing. No, the thing that scared me the most was when he said that one of us, either me or my baby sister, was about to be taken away from her. And since I know it's not Ryan that's in trouble, she's such a good and polite little sister that never does anything bad ever, it has to be me that's in trouble and has to go away.

And even though I know I really shouldn't, especially not when everyone else is already so, I can't help but cry at the thought of having to leave everyone I love here at home while I go somewhere that's obviously very scary and incredibly far away. After all, that's the only reason I can think of why my mommy would be crying instead of telling me how lucky I am that I get to go on a super cool and fun adventure.

Unfortunately, at least I think that's the big word I want to use here, my crying is all it takes to send everyone else in the room, even my grandpa who I've never seen cry in my entire life, over the edge and into a never-ending cycle of crying while trying to find a way to help everyone else stop crying. But in the end, it's no use and after a few minutes of trying, everyone just gives up and decides to sit together in a warm and safe little circle in the middle of the floor and hug each other super-duper tight while we try to get the rest of our tears out.

And that's how the scary looking white robot man finds us when our time is up, and as he drags my family out of the room one at a time I can't help but wonder if this is going to be the last time I ever see all the people I love…?

* * *

 **A/N: First off I'd like to say a very special thank you to Platrium and Glassgift, for submitting Julie and Ives respectively. Both of them bring a truly unique and underrepresented point of view to the Games and I thoroughly enjoyed having the chance to bring that point, as well as the two of them, to life for all of you.**

 **So here we are, seven down and five to go. I appreciate all of you being so patient with me and for all the support you've given me as I try to get chapters out at a slightly faster pace despite life continuing to go out of its way to make doing so as close to impossible as it can get without actually being impossible. But I love writing this story and your support makes it all worthwhile, so thank you all for sticking by me as I soldier on and try my best to put out a story that all of us can be proud of. :D**

 **But we can talk more about that at the end of the story, right now I'm much more interested in hearing what everyone thinks of Julie and Ives. So please go ahead and drop a review and let me know, as well as anything I can do to make the story more fun for all of you to read, and I'll be looking forward to seeing all of your smiling faces at the District 8 Reaping! :D**


	14. Old Habits(D8 Reaping)

**Flux Allardyce (DIstrict 8 Escort)**

I don't think I'll ever understand how a district that's known far and wide for its almost otherworldly ability to produce such eye-catching, vibrant and stunningly colorful clothes, as the people in Eight do, could possibly be so drab and dull. I mean, I understand that not everyone necessarily wants, let alone can afford, to work and run around while wearing nothing but richly colored silks or vibrantly colored lace outfits. But that doesn't mean an entire district that's known to the rest of Panem primarily for its stylish flair, gets a free pass for somehow being chalk full of people who are utterly devoid of anything that even marginally resembles personal fashion sense.

It's just so…..It's just so sad.

"You know you've got that look on your face again, right?"

"I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about Thomas."

"Sure you don't Flux. I mean, it's not like we've been working together long enough for me to be able to pick your, 'I can't believe that poor, brain-dead fool had the audacity to wear something as ugly and unappealing as the mismatched atrocity he's got on now,' out of a lineup or anything."

"Fair point. But as I'm sure you well know, old habits do indeed die-hard.

"I mean, it's not like I spent almost two decades working as a stylist before crossing over and becoming one of Panem's most popular and highly sought after escort or anything."

"And I understand all of that Flux. Because again, I've worked with you for a pretty damn long time. In fact, I've worked with you for so long, I'm starting to think that I might actually know more about your past than I do my own.

"But none of that, not your past and especially not my understanding, means that it's even remotely ok for you to stand here and judge people for not being able to live up to your damn near unattainable standards for stylistic flair and consciousness."

I know full well that Thomas is just yanking my chain with all of this, so I decide to play along by slapping an obviously fake look of mock hurt on my face while staring at him indignantly as if to demand that he apologize for his unnecessarily 'mean' and absurd statement. The fact that I'm trying to do this while keeping a straight face and without laughing, is neither here nor there.

Fortunately for me, I've had more than enough practice at keeping a straight face over the years that I've become sort of an expert at not cracking, let alone laughing, when I'm under pressure. Which makes coming out on top of little standoff like this an event that I can all but guarantee my excessively playful and doting grandfather of a mentor isn't nearly as proficient at as I am. Which also means it's only natural that, after what I'm sure was at most forty to forty-five seconds of sternly playful staring, I find myself letting a small but still noticeable smile slipping through my defenses and I'm not able to catch it and stuff it back in the box before Thomas is able to catch it himself.

"Are you ever going to see me as someone who you need to take seriously or am I destined to be seen as nothing more than that same wisecracking kid you met all those years ago?"

"Well for starters, I take you every bit as seriously as the individual situation demands I do. As to whether or not you're destined to spend the rest of my or your life as nothing more than a grown-up version of the smartass kid that I somehow managed to help guide to victory in the arena, well, like I said early, old habits die hard."

Despite all my years of knowing him, I honestly can't tell if the small and weary-looking smile my last statement coaxed out of Thomas is one of bewildered amusement or mildly annoyed disgust, and unfortunately for me, I'm not given the opportunity to find out which one of the two it is for sure. Because within seconds of my deciding I might actually want to know just what the answer might be, I find myself watching as Thomas is politely but forcefully led towards the massive, petrified wood double door at the front of the Hall of Justice maybe ten or so seconds before one of the Capitol production assistants scurries up and does the same, though in a much more gentle and polite manner, with me.

After that we spend maybe a minute and a half standing around before the Mayor, an ancient old hag who somehow manages to have even less fashion sense than the rest of the people in her district, gets around to introducing Thomas, and a half a minute later me, to the rest of the people in District Eight. And as I stroll out on stage and into the waiting embrace of yet another woefully under-enthused and apathetic looking and sounding crowd, I find myself being forced to swallow a twinge as my eyes are assaulted by a score of terribly dressed and drabby looking people.

"Gooooooood afternoon District Eight! My name, as I'm sure all of you know full well after seeing my ugly mug once, sometimes twice a year for the last four decades, is Flux Allardyce. And as I've said time and again over that same forty year period, it's my unimaginable pleasure to be here and to have to opportunity to serve as the official Capitol escort for all of you incredibly kind and dedicated people.

"Of course if there's one thing I've learned in all my time serving in this post, it's that all of you have just as much patience for all of this showmanship and bluster as I do. And with that in mind, I think it would be in all of our best interest, to skip the whole dog and pony show and get right down to brass tacks. Which means that it's my pleasure to declare this, the District Eight Reaping for the One Hundred and Fifth Annual Hunger Games, to be officially OPEN!

"And, as I'm sure you all know by now is the one and only reaping related tradition I actually observe, we'll start this year's festivities off with the selection of your newest female tribute….."

My declaration is met with just the slightest hint of applause from the crowd, which is honestly a hell of a lot more involved a response than I've come to expect, but it's not nearly long or loud enough to warrant me paying attention to. Instead, I focus on the all-important task of not tripping over my own feet as I dart off in the direction of the girl's rainbow-colored reaping ball in what I know full well is going to end up being a mostly useless attempt to get all of this boring crap out-of-the-way as quickly as I possibly can.

Of course, I'm not going to let something as small and trivial as logic, let alone personal experience, stop me from believing this might be the day I find a way to actually pull off a quick, clean, and uneventful reaping. And it's with that in mind that I go about gently dipping my hand into the lower-left quadrant of the ball, where the absolutely hideous looking sherbert colored slips of paper are the shallowest, and gingerly scoop one up from somewhere near the bottom of my chosen sub-pile. From there, it's a simple matter for me to quickly retreat back behind my podium, which has the added benefit of getting me away from that eye-sore of a ball that was chalk-full of smaller eye-sores, and unfold my chosen slip and carefully study the same scribbled within before leaning in and reading it off in as clear and commanding voice as I can muster.

"And the name of the newest female tribute from District Eight is…..Annalee Tack!"

Another thing I've come to expect from the people who live here in Eight, especially after working with and around them for as long as I have, is that they have an otherworldly tendency to get exceptionally quiet whenever a new tributes name is read off for the first time. And while their rather, unnerving silence, has become just another one of the districts seemingly endless stream of quirks that I've grown accustomed to over the years, it's still one I really wish they would hurry up and outgrow. If only because getting an honest to god reaction out of them, even if it's an unimaginably negative one, would go a long way towards making my already unimaginably difficult job, just little bit easier for me to do.

But I don't end up having a whole lot of time to dwell on any of that, which is an unexpected by very welcome deviation from the norm, because within forty-five or so seconds of my reading of her name, a visibly shaken and obviously terrified looking girl of what appears to be average height with soft, thin looking shoulder length light blonde hair and rich olive-green eyes comes stumbling out of what I believe is the fifteen-year-old girl's section and into the central walkway. From there she spends the next few seconds trying to collect herself and bring her emotions under control, which even I can see is going to be nothing less than a spectacular failure, before turning her attention towards the foot of the stage and starting down towards it with very small, measure, and timid looking steps.

And it really is to bad that she's so timid and unsure, because she's a decent looking young woman otherwise. After all, her hair, despite looking so thin, is the perfect color to compliment her stunning green eyes and soft white skin. Add in the fact that she appears to be better off than most of the other girl's in the district, she's got a healthy glow and a reasonably full face and body that, while lacking any sort of identifiable curves, which in my experience isn't all that surprising for the younger girls from Eight, and it's hard for me to imagine having landed a better tribute. Hell, as long as she ends up being willing and able to listen and take instruction, from both me and her mentor, and has a relatively warm and non-abrasive personality, she might end up being one of the more trendy upset picks to win the whole thing.

"Welcome my dear Annalee, welcome. Now as I'm sure you probably know already, my name is Flux Allardyce, and it's my job to make sure you don't get lost during your time in the Capitol."

"Well I hate to say this, but you're going to have your work cut out for you this year Flux. I mean, I'm not normally one to brag, but I've mastered the art of getting lost in places I know like the back of my own hand, so I can only imagine how hard it's going to be for me to not get lost in a completely new and unexplored location like the Capitol."

"Oh don't say things like that Annalee. I mean, I'm more than willing to do my job if I have to, but I'd really prefer to spend most of my time sleeping till noon and drinking with the other escorts until the wee hours of the morning. Of course, the only way I can do all of that is if you don't decide to run off and get lost trying to explore all of the glory and splendor that is our out-of-this-world Capitol."

"I hate to break this to you Flux, but talking up just how beautiful and majestic the Capitol is, really isn't helping your case right now. I mean, if I wasn't interested in running away and getting lost in the Capitol before, I sure am know…."

You know, I think I'm going to enjoy working with this girl. Not only is she funny as all get out, not to mention incredibly playful, which is a great selling point for potential sponsors, but she sounds like she's got a good head on her shoulders to boot. Add in the fact that she's obviously not afraid to play a part, a reality that's backed up by the fact that she's been able to oh so effortlessly exchanging semi-playful banter with me despite the fact that I can still see the very real and palpable fear all but bleeding out of her understandably unselleted and bewildered-looking green eyes, and I've got myself a tribute in Annalee that should be nothing short of an absolute treat to work with.

Provided she's able to keep this façade, or at the very least one of a slightly different but comparable nature, front and center whenever she's in public that is.

"You know Annalee, my mom used to tell me when I was growing up, 'Flux, you're a bright boy and you can do anything in the world if you set your mind to it. But you have an uncanny knack for putting your foot in your mouth at the worst possible time, and one day, that uncanny habit of yours is going to come back and bite you in the butt when you can least afford for it to do so.'

"Now I always thought that was just my mamma being her normal overly dramatic self, but now that I look back on it, with this most recent hiccup fresh in my mind, I'm starting to wonder if maybe, just maybe, she wasn't on to something."

"Well, even if she was, would you really want to change anything about you Flux? I mean, your, as you and your mom put it, uncanny ability to put your foot in your mouth at the worst possible time, is part of what makes you the incredibly funny and charming man you are today. Isn't it?"

"You know I do believe you're right my dear. And besides, it's our little imperfections, like my all-encompassing need to make a fool of myself, that makes us who we are. And if I"m not mistaken, that's more or less what you were trying to say a few seconds ago. Correct?"

"Umm….Sure….Sure, let's umm….Let's go ahead and go with that."

"Oh come on now Annalee, there was a time and a place for you to play your submissive and unsure cards, and that was at the very beginning. I mean, I've seen my share of tributes go from one personality extreme to the other at the drop of a hat, but their one-eighty was so much more…..Organic, and therefore much more believable, than your obviously fake attempt was."

I'm not sure if the offput and uncertain look on Annalee's face is a result of what I just said, the fact that I managed to catch and call her out for trying to pass that horrendously terrible and exceedingly transparent lie for what it really was, or some unfortunate combination of the two, but it's a very unflattering look nonetheless. And fortunately for Annalee, and to a greater extent me and my ability to sell her to potential sponsors based on her initial interview, she's able to rebound quickly and paste over that look with one of sheepish apology and sly playfulness.

"Hey, you can't blame a girl for trying. Can you?"

"Oh, I don't blame you for trying my dear. In fact, I'd be more than willing to give you a couple of pointers on how to make your fake swings like that more believable. Provided you're interested in doing that and we can get the rest of Panem to forget that I offered by creating a big old party with the selection of your District Partner."

"Well then Flux, it sounds like you need to stop talking to me and focus on trying to pull the rabbit of all rabbits out of that delightful little ruby studded bowler of yours."

"My thoughts exactly my dear. But in order for me to move on, I need to make sure the crowd gives you the round of applause that you so richly deserve.

"So what do you say, folks? Why don't you go ahead and get up on your feet and show some much-deserved love for District Eight's newest female tribute, the oh so sly and unabashedly determined, Annalee Tack?!"

Ok, so I can count the number of times I've been blown away by this crowds reaction to something on one hand and still have fingers left over, but that's never stopped them from finding a way to blow me, and I guess by extension everyone else in Panem, away when the situation calls for it. And since I know full well this is one of those situations, I'm not even a little bit shocked when the square erupts in a course of ear-splitting applause that, unless my inner ear is playing tricks on me, is so loud that it causes the stage to quake beneath me as I playfully show Annalee off to the crowd.

Unfortunately, the shaking, not to mention the showing off, last for at most a minute and a half before I'm forced to lead Annalee to her assigned place in front of the girl's ball before quickly darting back behind the podium and quickly centering myself before turning my attention towards the all-important job of picking out a District Partner for Annalee. And after taking what was maybe a seven or second break, that's exactly what I do.

Of course, my goal is still to get this reaping done as quickly as humanly possible. But after spending as much time as I did talking with Annalee, and knowing full well that I've got a fairly decent chance of spending just as much time talking with her as of yet still unknown partner, I need to find a way to save as much time as I can wherever and whenever I can. Which means that, unlike what I did with the selection of Annalee, I spend at most a minute darting across the stage, thrusting my perfectly manicured hand into the center of the small mountain of sherbert colored papers and deftly forcing the first slip I touch into the palm of my hand, and then quickly retreating back behind the podium and unfolding my chosen slip with barely contained glee.

"And the name of District Eight's newest male tribute, who's about to be blessed with the once in a lifetime opportunity to work side-by-side with yours truly is…..Kylon Warwick!"

Part of me is hoping, albeit only half-heartedly, that at least a small part of the crowds rather inspired and boisterous reaction from the end of Annalee's little q and a session, will carry over into to the whole Kylon announcement thing. But alas, it looks, and more importantly sounds, like I'm destined to be disappointed yet again. Because as is tradition for the people of this district, the big reveal of Kylon as their newest tribute is met with the same passive disinterest and begrudging smattering of barely noticeable and obviously forced applause from the crowd as damn near everything else that's even marginally connected to the Hunger Games has managed to coax out of them over the years.

Of course I still refuse to let things like this get to me, and as I stare out at the increasingly quiet and uninvolved crowd, I do everything in my power to keep a smile on my face, along with a look of childlike wonder and amazement burning in my eyes, as I fidget ever so slightly in nervous anticipation as I wait ever so impatiently for a chance to get my first look at Kylon. And sure enough, after almost two and a half full minutes of looking like a moron, I'm finally rewarded for my dedication by the sight of a boy with dark-black, shaggy looking hair, stunning, if mostly obscured, dark-green eyes and incredibly rich, bronze tinted skin.

Of course, it's not his looks, which are, in my humble opinion, leaps, and bounds ahead of the curve here in Eight, that people in the Capitol are going to be talking about. No, it's going to be the unmistakable, unimaginable, unflinching look of pure and unadulterated terror etched on his otherwise handsome and marketable face that everyone is going to be talking about. Unless he finds a way to pull an Annalee and change the story by ripping a certifiable miracle out of his ass that is.

And it's with that fact in mind, not to mention the slightly unsettling picture thinking about it has seared into my brain, that I turn my attention towards the foot of the stage, where a still visibly unsettled and trembling Kylon has finally mounted the first of six steps he has to climb to make it onto the stage, and prepare myself for the leap into the unknown that the two of us are about take.

"You know, I'm starting to think I might have struck gold with this new outfit I'm wearing. Not only did it help me catch lighting in a bottle with Annalee, but it also helped me strike gold with Kylon here. I mean seriously, how else can you explain me being lucky enough to select one of what I can only imagine is a very small number of slips of paper that just happened to have this exotic looking hunks name printed on it?"

I spend the next several seconds alternating my increasingly worried-looking gaze between Kylon, who based on the look of uncomfortable bewilderment currently etched on his face was just thrown for one hell of a loop by what I said about him, and a crowd full of increasingly bored and impatient looking people. Which, as crazy a thing as it is for me to admit, even if it is in private and to no one but myself, is the same crowd that just a few seconds ago had appeared to be on the verge of popping for Kylon in much the same unexpectedly loud and shockingly endearing way it had for Annalee.

Of course, that was before the majority of the people in the crowd realized that Kylon, as unfortunate as it may be, doesn't seem to be cut from the same ultra playful and entertaining cloth as his partner is. And unfortunately for him, I fell into the same routine I always have and tried to impose on him a specific way of doing things that might not work with his individual personality. Which means that I've now got to backtrack and try everything I can think of to help him make a decent first impression without letting everyone else in Panem know that's what I'm trying to do.

So, here goes nothing I guess….

"I'm sorry about that Kylon. I guess I was so busy getting lost in your eyes when I should have been trying to get lost in your soul. But fortunately for me, that's a mistake that I'm fully willing and able to rectify, which is what I'm going to do right now.

"So, Kylon, why don't you tell all of us a little about yourself so we can get to know the lucky young man that's about to represent this absolutely wonderful district in the Capitol for this year's Hunger Games."

"Well, as lame as this may sound, there's really not all that much about me that most people would consider interesting Flux. I mean, I know that a lot of tributes try to sell people on this line in the past, but when push comes to shove I really am nothing more than a normal, average, everyday young man that enjoys spending most of his time doing normal, average, everyday things.

"And just so you know, I wasn't put off or anything by the fact that you, as you so masterfully put it, were so busy getting lost in my eyes when you should have been trying to get lost in my soul instead."

"Well, that's um….That's good to know son. I mean, I never meant to imply that you had been put off by what I had said, just that I understand that I might have overstepped myself just a little bit with the very personal and intimate way I referred to you even though the two of us had just met."

"And I understand and appreciate that Flux, I truly do. But the reason I didn't respond to your incredibly kind and endearing words wasn't that I was uncomfortable or anything like that. The reason I didn't respond was that I was too busy trying to find the right words to express my appreciation for just how welcoming and inviting you were being.

"After all, my mother raised me to understand and appreciate the power of words, so the last thing I wanted to do was say something stupid or inappropriate at such a delicate and important time."

Man, I have to hand it to Kylon, he's recovered expertly from his earlier, damn near potentially crippling setbacks. I mean, he's still got a little, or possibly even a lot, of work left to do before he's all the way back to where I was hoping he would be, but as long as he keeps putting in hard work, and more importantly saying all the right things at the right time, he's got one hell of a shot at pulling it off. Provided he and I can get through the rest of this little interview without him slipping up and saying, or god forbid doing, something else he's going to have to make up for at a later point in time that is.

"Well, I'm glad to hear you say that Kylon. After all, I've seen more than my share of incredibly bright and promising tributes destroy their chances of winning just because they said something stupid at the wrong time."

"Which is exactly what I'm hoping to avoid doing over the next few days. I'd rather it was my talents, or baring that my, as you oh so perfectly put it, my exotic good looks, that gets people in the Capitol talking, and not the fact that I went off and put my foot in my mouth at an incredibly inopportune time."

"Well, I don't think you're going to have to worry too much about that Kylon. Most tributes never end up having that problem and you're already leaps and bounds ahead of the average tribute simply because you're already very aware of just how powerful words can be."

"That's what I'm counting on to carry me to the promised land Flux. That, and my award-winning smile and world-class, rapier-like wit."

"And I'm sure that if you play your cards right, those three little things will be more than enough to carry you to heights no one else in Panem has ever even dreamed of reaching. But you'll have time to think about all of that when we're on the train. Because right now is supposed to be a celebration, and the longer the two of us stand here and flap our gums the less time the people here in Eight have to shower you, as well as your firecracker of a district partner Annalee, with the praise the two of you so richly deserve.

"And so, with that in mind, I think it's time for everyone here in the square to get up on their feet, to get loud, and to be proud, of their two incredibly selfless and amazing young tributes, Ms. Annalee Tack, and Mr. Kylon Warwick!

"And as always, I want to wish everyone in Panem a very happy and safe Hunger Games. And may the odds be ever in your favor!"

* * *

 **Kylon Warwick-17 (D8M)**

"I thought you did as good as you possibly could all things considered. You could have mentioned that you studied medicine and general medical anatomy under one of Panem premiere doctors, but otherwise, I think you did pretty good."

"Come on mom. We both know that I spent the entire time I was out there talking out of my butt while trying not to wet myself from fear in the process."

"Oh you're over exaggerating things and you know it. I mean, I understand that you were scared, and you had every right to be and no one in their right mind would blame you. But you and I both know that you were nowhere near frightened enough to do something like that. Especially not with the entire world watching your every move, and hanging on your every word, like you know they were when you were out there talking to your escort."

I really wish my mom would stop trying to make me feel better about all of this, especially since all I really want to do right now is cry and feel bad about how unfair my life seems to be

I mean, I know she's just trying to help, especially since anyone with half a brain knows full well that no one in human history has ever done anything of note, let alone pulled off a surefire miracle, by having a negative outlook on or a bad attitude about whatever it is they have to do. And seeing as my mom and I both know full well, even if neither of us actually wants to admit it, that the only chance I have of making a somewhat deep and respectable run in the arena, nevermind actually doing the impossible and winning the Games themselves, is for me to find a way to conjure up a certifiable miracle.

So while that does mean it's not really all that hard for me to understand WHY she'd want me to focus on being as positive as I possibly can, as if the power of positive thoughts alone will somehow will the miracle I need to survive into existence, it doesn't make her ceaseless harping on me to do so any less annoying or easy to stomach.

Then again, it's not like I'm ever going to say any of this to her face or anything. I mean, all of this has to be hard enough for her as it is, so the last thing she needs from me is to come rushing in with a cold does of heart shattering reality when all she really wants is to spend as long as she can living inside of the heartwarming little fantasy of hers where I not only have a nearly one hundred percent chance of winning the games, but of doing so in a way that allows me to come out of them relatively intact and as the same kind and caring young man I was when I woke up this morning.

And seeing as she's sacrificed so much for me over the last seventeen plus years as it is, be it any and all of her free time by working three jobs to keep a roof over our heads and food on our table, or cutting ties with all of her friends from her childhood because she didn't want me to be around people whose only goal in life was finding a way to survive until it was time for their next fix. And don't even get me started on the fact that she ran away from her relatively well-off upper-middle-class family because they insisted that she terminate her pregnancy so they could avoid the social stigma of being parents to a fourteen-year-old single mother. I guess it wouldn't kill me to play along and let her do and say whatever she feels like she needs to say or do to help her come to terms with all of this.

"Maybe you're…..Maybe you're right mom. I mean, I know things weren't nearly as bad as my….as my incredibly overactive imagination made them seem in hindsight. It's just that…."

"It's just that you don't want me to think that things are going better than they are because you're afraid it'll get my hopes up. Right?"

"How did….How did you….?"

"Know? I know because I'm your mother Kyle. I've spent so much time with you over the last seventeen years that I think I just might know you better than I know myself.

"And while I appreciate your willingness to put yourself down just on the off-chance it might help me, temper, my normally sky-high expectations of you, not to mention what you're capable of doing if you put your mind to it, we both know it's never going to happen.

"No, I need to believe in you, even if that belief is outlandishly unrealistic and misplaced, because that belief is all that I've got left to hold onto."

"I um…...I understand that mom. And I promise you, I'm going to do everything I can to make sure that I'm the one that comes back from the Capitol alive.

"But that doesn't…..But that doesn't mean you shouldn't start preparing yourself for the very…..For the very real possibility that I might….That I might not make it out of this mess in one piece. Because even if I win, even if I end up being the lucky tribute that makes it out of the arena alive, I'm not going to be the same person that I was when I walked in. You know and understand that, right?"

"Of course I do. I've watched enough people I've known for my whole life turn into homicidal monsters over a puddle of muddy water when they were in the arena. I had to sit there and watch on in terror as your dad choked the life out of his twelve-year-old ally because she broke her leg when they were running away from the career pack and wouldn't stop crying about it.

"But even with all of that being said, I've never faulted any of the people I knew that did those terrible things because I understood why they did it. And that means that even if you have to do the same things they did, or if you have to go ahead and turn yourself into the kind of glory seeking monster that always seems to come out on top in the arena, I'll understand.

"Because in the end, as unfeeling and callow as this may sound, I don't care what you have to do, or who you might have to hurt, as long as you make it out of this hell hole alive. OK?"

How in the…..How in the world am I supposed to respond to that? I mean, am I supposed to say that I'll do anything and everything I have to do, even if it means abandoning everything I've ever believed in, everything I've ever held dear, just to increase my already anemic chances of winning a point or two?

Then again, how am I supposed to look, my mom, the woman who gave up everything she had just to give me life, that I would rather die with my morals intact than live a long and happy life with the stain of having become a monster to ensure that I could do so? Can I really deny her the opportunity to enjoy all the things, such as an improved standard of living and the once in a lifetime chance to have grandchildren, that I can give her, just because I'm not sure if I'm willing to put her and her well being ahead of me and mine?

"Mom….I…."

"Promise me Kylon…..Please."

"OK. I promise that I'll do whatever I have to do in order to win."

"No matter what?"

"No matter…..No matter what…."

* * *

 **Annalee Tack-15 (D8F)**

I never imagined I'd live to see the day when my mom looked more hopeless and terrified than she did the day dad grabbed her by the throat and told her he'd sooner see all of us dead than let her walk out the door with his girls. Of course I also never imagined that I'd get reaped either, especially since I'm the only girl in my entire class that's never had to even think about taking out a single tessera, let alone anything even close to the average half-dozen tesserae most kids take. But in the end, I guess life decided it was time to remind me that not only does it not have to make sense, but it's just as sick and twisted as everything else in this world seems to be.

So here I am, six years and god only knows how many terror-filled sleepless nights since the day my dad took his entire family hostage before slowly drinking himself to death, sitting in an overly plush, blood-red colored chair, and staring into the eyes of my emotionally shattered mother. The fact that I've only got a few more minutes to come up with a way to help her at least start putting her life back together before I'm drug, more than likely kicking and screaming, from her arms for what may well be the final time in my all too short life, is just helping to make an already very emotional and tense situation that much worse.

Which is why I'm super glad I've got my Aunt Elise and little sister Via here to help me through this. Even if all they do is repeat everything the other says and supply me with the emotional support to talk to my mom without bursting into tears….

"I know this is going to be by far the most soul-crushing and difficult thing you've ever done. But you've got to pull it together long enough to let your daughter know that you're behind her sis."

"It's ok Aunt Elise. I already know that my mom's in my corner, so there's really nothing she could say to me right now that I don't already know."

"That's not the point dear.

"You're about to be whisked away to the Capitol and god only knows when, or heaven forbid, if any of us will be lucky enough see you again. So as hard as it may be for her to do so, she's got to pull her crap together and do, not to mention say, all of the things she's supposed to say and do while she's still got the chance. Because if she doesn't, if the three of us continue to just let her sit there and zone out until we finally run out of time, she's going to regret it for the rest of her life."

I'm not sure what's worse, the fact that I agree with everything my aunt just said, or that I hate myself for doing so. Because like I said before, I know that not only is my mom is concerned for my safety, but that she would do anything and everything in her power to help me get through all of this in one piece. Of course, my knowing that she loves and supports me, and hearing her say it to my face, are two very different things. So as much as I know she'd love to be able to just sit there and pretend that none of this is actually happening, and as much as I'd love to be able to let her do exactly that, there's also a small part of me that's more than a little upset at the fact that she's acting like this.

I mean I know this sounds a bit selfish, but it's me, not her, that just got reaped into the Hunger Games. It's me, not her, that's about to be ripped away from her family, her friends, not to mention the only world she's ever known, just to be shipped halfway across the world and forced to fight, and possibly even die, just so a bunch of amoral freaks can get their rocks off. And even with all of that hanging over my head, with the very real possibility that we might never see or talk to one another again on this side of death, my mom is still unable, or maybe it's unwilling, to pull herself together long enough to comfort me in my time of need.

But I know that's not what's going to happen. No, in the end, as much as it's going to kill her once she finally snaps out of this and comes to her senses, my mom is never going to find the strength to say any of the things either of us so desperately wants her to say.

"It's OK Aunt Elise. I mean, I appreciate what you're trying to do, I truly do. But we both know how my mom is with stuff like this. She just…..she just shuts down whenever she's under any sort of major pressure, and after what she's had to endure in her life I don't blame her for doing so."

"Neither do I Annalee. But that doesn't make it ok for her to behave like this. Especially not when it comes to something as life-changing and important as her own child being reaped into the Games.

"And to be perfectly frank, it's not fair now, nor has it ever been or ever will be, that your mom gets to act like this, that she gets to just give up and shut down whenever things get too tough, and just expect you to take care of her, not to mention pick up her slack, until she gets around to feeling like it's time for her to be a big girl and snap out of it."

"But that's not going to happen Aunt Elise and we both know it. And that means the only chance either of us has of hearing the other say the things that need to be said, is if I win the Games. So that's exactly what I'm going to do….."

* * *

 **A/N: First off I'd like to say a super special thank you to FabulousAbby and Thorn5502 for submitting Annalee and Kylon respectively. Both of them are amazing and I can't wait to see how they interact with all of the other absolutely wonderful tributes in this story.**

 **Well, here we are, 8 down and 4 to go my friends, we're officially in the homestretch now :D And, for a change, I'm actually a bit ahead in my writing and I might actually get the last 4 out in something that actually resembles a regular schedule. But I'll have time to think and worry about all of that later, right now, I'm much more interested in hearing what everyone thinks about Annalee and Kylon?**

 **So please go ahead and drop me a review and tell me what you think and I'll look forward to seeing all of your warm and smiling faces real soon at the District 9 reaping :D**


	15. Crash and Burn(D9 Reaping)

**Hyperia Harrowmont (District 9 Escort)**

"What do you mean she's too sick to make an appearance at the Reaping?"

"Which part of what I said are you having trouble understanding Hyperia? The part where Kimma is sick or the part where I told her not to worry about showing up for the Reaping?"

"Don't get smart with me Oatis. I don't have the time or the patience to put up with your shit right now, so I'd greatly appreciate it if you'd just cut the crap and answer my questions for a change."

"See that's the thing, I did answer your question Hyperia."

"But you didn't tell me what's actually wrong with Kimma, let alone where in the hell she is right now."

"And I would have gotten to all of that if you had just given me a chance to do so. It's just a little hard for me to do so when you give me all of three seconds to explain things before jumping down my freaking throat."

"Look, Oatis, I'm sure this is just another of your numerous lame attempts to be playful and witty, but I really don't have the time or the patience to put up with it right now. Not when I've still got a million and one super important things to finish doing, at least half of which have to be done BEFORE the reaping starts, and next to no time to take care of them.

"So, why don't you just cut the crap and answer my questions, in the order I asked them, and in as quick and concise a manner as you can possibly manage?"

That….That came out sounding a whole hell of a lot harsher and matter of fact then I honestly meant for it too. I mean, it's not that I didn't mean each and every word that I said, just that I'm sure there was a more…..diplomatic, or at the very least marginally less confrontational, way for me to have said them. The fact that I wouldn't have had to say what I just said in the first place if I'd had the time necessary to come up with that less confrontational way of doing so, is neither here nor there.

"If that's how you want it.

"So, Kimma's parents said she woke up around three, three-thirty this morning complaining of stomach cramps and general discomfort. About twenty minutes later she started throwing up and continued to do so off and on for the rest of the morning, which is how I found her when I swung by about an hour ago to make sure our resident procrastinator was up and getting ready."

"Oh for the love of. Would you please just get to the freaking point already?"

"Of course.

"So, Kimma's dad is the one that answered the door when I showed up and he let me know that her mom had tried every trick in the book to get her to stop throwing up, but hadn't had any success up to that point. So, after talking at length with the two of them, and holding an incredibly brief discussion with Kimma, I decided that it would be in everyone's best interest if Kimma skipped the reaping and focused all her time and strength on getting better. So, I told her parents to go ahead and take her to the train so they could help her get settled while I put in a call to the Capitol and let the Head Gamemakers administrative assistant know what had happened and that Kimma wouldn't be attending."

"You….You already called the Capitol about this?"

"Of course I called the Capitol Hyperia. I may be old, but I'm certainly not stupid."

"And I wasn't implying in the slightest that you were. I just wanted to make sure that I hadn't….misheard what you had said. Especially since we both know that it was, by far, the only thing you just said that was even sort of important."

I don't want to admit this, especially not to someone as annoying and prickly as Oatis, but I'm sort of relieved that he had the presence of mind to call in Kimma's absence. I mean, not only does it save me the time, nevermind the trouble, of having to do so myself, but it also gives me a couple of extra seconds to try and come up with a plan as to how I'm going to conduct my reaping without my most recent and noticeable victor.

Of course, the only way I can do so, especially in the increasingly short amount of time that I have, is by diving in head first and ignoring everything else that's going on around me. Which means that, despite how rude and disrespectful I'm sure it makes me look in his eyes, I'm forced to quickly and abruptly usher Oatis out of my makeshift dressing room so that I can spend what little time I still have, focusing on my own concerns.

Unfortunately, or maybe fortunately if I take my current mood and state of mind into consideration, I only end up having, at the very most, ten minutes to sit and plan things before I'm being whisked away in the general direction of the massive ivory double doors at the front of the entrance plaza just in time to here the mayor as he formally introduces Oatis to a disturbingly silent and obviously uninterested crowd. And then, after maybe two or three minutes of incredibly impatient fidgeting on my part. During which I'm able to come up with both jack and squat in the way of ideas of how to handle Kimma's absence, I'm introduced as well.

And as I strut out on stage and into the 'welcoming' embrace of the most unengaged and pathetic looking crowd of people I've ever seen, which is an impressive feat even for this shithole of a district, I can't help but smile as I finally get around to realizing something that I should, and in all reality probably did, know all along. And it's with that same smile on my face, and that oh so comforting reassurance buzzing around in my brain, that I graciously pluck the delicately offered microphone out of the mayors wrinkled and gnarled looking hands before happily greeting the still wholly uninterested and silent crowd.

"Good afternoon District Nine. My name, as your wonderful mayor was so kind to relay during my introduction, is Hyperia Harrowmont, and it's my pleasure to be here in beautiful District Nine as we prepare to get the ball rolling on yet another year of Hunger Games awesomeness.

"And as I'm sure you all know, the single most important and exciting, not to mention enjoyable and compelling, part of all that awesomeness is the highly anticipated selection of your newest Hunger Games tributes.

"And so, it's with that fact planted firmly in the front of all our minds, and absolutely zero further ado, that I take unimaginable pleasure in officially opening this year's District Nine Hunger Games Reaping with the oh so highly anticipated selection of your newest female tribute….."

The crowd reacts to my obviously forced and incredibly cheesy sounding statement to what I'm about to do with the same passive-aggressive disinterest and barely hidden disgust as they have everything else. But I know I can't let that stop me from at least pretending that what I'm about to do is as monumental and enjoyable as I just made it seem. After all, I can't let the fact that I'm still stuck working in this dead-end shit hole of a district, that has somehow managed to produce exactly one victor in the last fifty plus years, keep me from at the very least appearing to be doing as through and professional a job as my more fortunate peers are.

So I don't. Instead, I focus all of my attention and energy on quickly but deftly slipping my microphone into the small, plum-colored silk pouch I wore on my belt just so I'd have the option to do so, the fact that I managed to get it into the pouch on the first try without screwing something up and embarrassing myself on national tv comes as no small relief, before playfully leaping around the edge of my podium and skipping across the stage in the direction of the girls reaping ball. The fact that I manage to do all of this, let alone find a way to come to a hopping stop just a couple of inches away from the edge of said ball, with the same fake yet somehow genuine smile from earlier still etched on my face, just goes to show, at least as far as I'm concerned, how truly dedicated I am to, and proficient I have forced myself to become at, this job.

And it's with that same dedication and proficiency, coupled with a playful dash of my surprisingly agile, damn near cat-like reflexes, that I go about choosing one of Panem's newest sacrificial lambs. I quickly and effortlessly slide my flawless looking hand into the ball, coming down in the dead center of the small mound that all of the slips had been piled into, playfully swirl my hand about a couple of times until said mound has been thoroughly leveled, before passively snatching up one of the slips that had previously been residing in the heart of the now destroyed mound, and quickly retreating back behind my podium with the slip held high above my head and a coy smile slowly but surely bleeding out across my sapphire lips.

"And the name of your oh so lucky and highly anticipated female tribute is…..Saralee Spelt!"

The crowd doesn't respond to my announcement, which I guess is in keeping with their preferred tradition of being as uninvolved and passive with all of this as they possibly can, but that doesn't stop me from smiling as brightly and widely as I possibly can. The fact that even the slowest and stupidest people in the Capitol will, or at the very least should, be able to instantly recognize that I'm only smiling like this because I'm desperate to keep all of the cameras focused on me instead of on my woefully uninterested and apathetic crowd, at least until they can focus in on Saralee, is neither here nor there.

Of course, the only way my plan has a snowball's chance in hell of succeeding, is if the person whose name I just read off decides to move with a purpose for the first time in their pathetic little life. So it only makes sense that I would spend the better part of five minutes standing behind my podium with an absolutely moronic looking grin plastered on my face while my pathetic excuse for a tribute takes her sweet ass time getting her butt in gear.

In fact, I'm going to give her one more chance, by calling her name for a second time on the one in a zillion off-chance she honestly didn't hear me the first time, because that's just the kind of person I am. But if she doesn't respond to it verbally, or at the very least give me some sort of signal that she's heard me and is on her way, within the first thirty seconds of me rereading her name, I'm going to send one of the peacekeepers in there to drag her ass out.

"I say again, everyone. The name of District Nine's newest female tribute is Ms. Saralee Spelt!"

Thirty….Twenty-Nine…..Twenty-Eight…..Twenty-Seven…..Twenty-Six….Oh, screw this.

"Well, it would appear that lucky little Saralee isn't interested in coming out and talking to all of us. What a pity.

"Commander. Would you be so kind as to send someone into the crowd to find her for us, please? And once they do, I'd appreciate it if you'd also have that guard escort her directly into the Hall of Justice.

"I believe we've wasted enough of our time on this little ingrate as it is."

The commander doesn't respond to my requests in a verbal way, but that doesn't stop him, or maybe it's a her, it's impossible to tell when they've got those helmets on, from pulling out a small device and pressing a couple of buttons just a fraction of a second before motioning for three of his or her equally anonymous drones to move out. After that, it seems like it takes no time at all for the three guards to wade out into the sea of twelve-year-old girl's near the front of the square, most of whom do everything in their power to get as far away from the guards as they possibly can, before one of them comes to a screeching halt and effortlessly scoops up a terrified-looking little mouse of a girl with an unruly mop of dirty-blonde curls and wide, fear-filled hazel eyes.

And it's in that moment, as I stare out and meet her terror-filled little gaze, that I almost find myself feeling sorry for her. I mean, this is the first impression everyone in Panem is going to have of her, and it's an absolutely pathetic sight. And if she's not already sorry that she had the gall to test my patience, she will be once she finally realizes just how far back doing so is going to put her in the pecking order once we get to the Capitol.

But I'll have plenty of time to look back on this moment and gloat, or feel sorry for Saralee, depending on my mood, once I'm done with all of this and safely back on a train that's speeding back towards civilization. Because right now...Right now I've got myself a job to do, and even though no one here in Nine seems to appreciate the work I put into doing it, I still intend to do it to the best of my abilities.

And it's with that in mind, and the soft but persistent whimpers Saralee had been making as her peacekeeper whisked her off into the Hall of Justice finally fading off into memory, that I playfully scoop up my microphone and turn my full attention back towards my maddeningly quiet and disconnected looking audience and set myself to the task of selecting them a male tribute.

I just hope whoever I end up picking ends up being just a tad more appreciative of the one of this kind opportunity than his partner Saralee was...

Well, here goes nothing. I guess….

"Well, that was certainly an unforeseen and unfortunate turn of events. But as bad as I feel for poor little Saralee, and as much as I'd like nothing more than to have her brought back out on stage and given a second chance to make a great first impression, I can't.

"After all, we all know that not only does time stop for no one, regardless of how deserving he or she may be, and that the show must always go on no matter how hard it may be to do so. And it's with that in mind that I implore all of you to push all of the unfortunate things that just happened, right to the back of your minds and instead focus on all of the amazing things that are still to come. Such as the oh so rapidly approaching selection of your newest male tribute."

I'm not expecting much from the crowd in the way of a positive reaction at this point, especially after everything that just happened with Saralee, so I don't bother waiting around for one like I would normally. Instead, I simply set the microphone down on the edge of my podium, take a couple of deep, calming breaths while subconsciously suppressing the nearly otherworldly urge to fidget with my outfit or hair, which is something I've learned that I have a habit of doing whenever I'm overly wound up and tense, before darting off and making a strong but still somewhat graceful looking beeline towards the boy's reaping ball. And once I get there, it takes me all of ten seconds to quickly study the ball, as well as the small sea of papers currently nestled safely within its breathtakingly beautiful stained glass confines, nonchalantly thrust my hand into the middle of the mass of papers and spearing the first slip I come into contact with on my perfectly manicured nails, before quickly darting back behind my podium and gingerly removing the slip from my nail and unfolding is so I can read the name written within.

"And the name of your newest male tribute, the young man who will bear the full weight of all of your hopes and dreams for this year's games is…..Quills Danelhayr!"

For the second time today my announcement of the newest tributes name is met with a kind of sick and unsettling silence from the crowd. And it's during that early period of time that I start to prepare myself mentally, and to a marginally lesser extent physically, for yet another incredibly long and mind-numbingly boring wait for my chosen tribute to make his grand entrance.

Of course the fact that I've at least started to prepare myself for what I have every reason to believe is going to be a somewhat decently long wait, means that it only makes sense that it take Quills all of forty-five seconds from the time I first read his name to the second he comes bounding out of the seventeen-year-old boys section with a smug smile on his face and a look that can only reasonably be described as pure and unadulterated insanity, burning oh so beautifully in his dark-brown eyes.

And while his smug smile and insanity filled eyes aren't the only things that I notice about, it would be hard for me to miss that hideous unkempt looking mop of chocolate-colored hair he's got on his head or that otherwise perfect looking tan complexion he's sporting, the one that's unfortunately been all but ruined by the presence of a small but noticeable dusting of freckles, they are far and away his most noticeable, not to mention marketable, physical features.

I just wish that the first impression he gave with them hadn't been one of unhinged lunacy and undeserved satisfaction at his current situation.

Well, here's hoping that his first verbal impression will be normal enough that it can at least sort of help him, and to a greater extent me and his mentors, convince some of the people in the Capitol that he's not nearly as crazy as he looked the first time they laid eyes on him…..

Then again, nothing has gone right for me today as it is, so I can't for the life of me figure out why I could possibly be stupid and dense enough to think for even one second that they would start doing so now. I mean seriously, from the second I stepped off the train, and into the excessively oppressive and foul-smelling embrace of District Nine, not a damn thing I've done has gone even marginally according to how I planned for it to go, so I don't know why I should expect anything to change now.

Hell, if I'm being completely honest with myself, I really should be expecting whatever it is that's about to happen with Quills, to easily be the single worst thing that's happened to me today. After all, today may have already secured its place as one of the worst days of my professional life, but it still has just a little bit further to go before it can claim the honor, or I guess infamy, of being the absolute worst.

And it's with that exceedingly unpleasant and obviously unwelcome though buzzing around in my head that I'm taken by surprise as Quills bounds up on stage, flashes me a very unnerving but not totally unattractive grin, before deftly snatching the microphone clean out of my hands and letting loose with a mini-tirade that I can only pray doesn't end up doing even a fraction of the damage to his already anemic chances of coming out on top in the arena that I think it's going to do.

"Thank you so much for picking me as your tribute Hyperia. Words cannot express just how truly and deeply honored I am to have been chosen for this instead of being forced to watch as yet another innocent little kid from my district is made to dance like some sort of trained monkey for all of the sick and twisted sycophants living in the Capitol.

"Because even though I have the same chance of winning as anyone else in this district does, which is as close to zero as you can get without actually being at zero, I do have one advantage that over the rest of the boys in Nine that makes things just a little bit easier for me. I'm not afraid to die.

"So go ahead and give me your best shot death, I've been waiting for a chance to dance with you for as long as I can remember."

Quills punctuates his very ill-timed and unfortunate statement by casually tossing the microphone in my general direction, I have to react to its tossing fairly quickly and move several steps to my left in order to catch it without letting it bounce off my head first, while Quills flashes me, the crowd, and the bank of cameras currently surrounding the square, a slightly less enthused version of his smile from earlier. And once he's decided he's had enough of smiling, he decides that he's had enough of everything and just kind of nonchalantly strolls off into the Hall of Justice without saying another word.

The fact that him doing so leaves me in an incredibly awkward position of needing to say something to the crowd while despite being left embarrassingly speechless and supremely tongue-tied. Or that the poor rookie peacekeeper that was supposed to escort him into the building once we were done with everything now has to sprint after him in a wholly unprofessional and humiliating manner. Doesn't seem to bother or matter to him in the slightest.

"Well, now that was…..That was definitely…..That was definitely something, wasn't it?

"I don't think I've ever…..I don't think I've ever seen someone as confident and unburdened by the sheer size of the burden he or she has just been selected to shoulder as….As the oh so plucky and…..And outspoken as Quills obviously is….."

Oh, who the hell am I trying to fool with that load of crap? I mean, it's not like anyone that matters in the Capitol is even paying attention to me, let alone anything that I might say, after what just happened. No, most of them are probably busy gossiping with anyone they can get ahold of about the absolutely disgusting and dastardly abhorrent things the mean-spirited and ungrateful little boy from Nine just said about them and all of the other wonderful people living in the Capitol.

Hell, at this point I could probably just end the broadcast right now and no one would even know the difference. It might even help me save a little face as there won't be any more video evidence floating around out there of me trying to backtrack and spin some of the absolutely undefendable and mind-numbingly stupid things that came out of Quills moronic little mouth.

And seeing as I don't really have anything left to lose at this point. I mean, I'm pretty sure that this massive shit show of a reaping has already cost me my job, or at the very least all but guaranteed that I'll never get assigned to a more reputable district. Which means that ending this farce here and now is not only in my best interest, which it most certainly is, but is also the only truly responsible and professional thing I can do.

"Ok, I think we're done here. No one in the Capitol is watching at this point and the crowd is still as dead as dead can be despite everything that's happened.

"Production team. Go ahead and cut the live feed and send everything back to Lanteia in the studio. And then hurry up and get this shit packed so we can get the hell out of here before something else goes wrong…..

* * *

 **Quills Danelhayr-17 (D9M)**

Part of me still can't believe that Hyperia let me get away with such an amazingly stupid stunt. I mean, I've gotten away with my fair share of crazy stunts over the last few years, the most noticeable and outrageous of which has been my taking out an obscene number of tesserae and then gifting them to the less fortunate so their kids don't have to do it themselves, doesn't mean I still don't recognize that I had no business getting away with what I did today. Just because I got away with stealing a peacekeeper uniform and using it to "borrow" some of their unused gear to sell for extra cash, doesn't mean I should have been able to get away with talking shit about the Capitol on national t.v.

Then again, it's not like they really could do anything to me at that point. I mean, short of cutting my microphone out and forcing me to scream out my statement at the top of my lungs instead of just saying it like I did, what could they have honestly done to stop me? I don't have any friends or family for them to punish in my stead, and I've already fully embraced the fact that in a few short days I'm going to be bleeding out in the middle of some god-awful, man-made Capitol hell hole.

And when I look at everything from that perspective, I guess it's not nearly as hard to understand why I was able to get away with pulling my stunt as I first thought it was. After all, it's not like they could have done anything to make my current situation any worse than it already is.

In fact, and even I'm willing to admit this is a pretty big stretch of logic, even for someone who enjoys stretching logic to its absolute limit like I do, but my stunt may have actually helped me to help one more innocent little kid before I die. I mean, Saralee is still in some pretty big trouble, but there's also a pretty good chance that my stunt, especially since it was the latter of the two to be pulled, will greatly overshadow, or at the very least soften some of the blowback, her rather unfortunate reaping related incident with the peacekeeper.

And while none of this was my intention when I decided to say what I said, I fully intended to so do if I was reaped regardless of what happened on the girl's side of things. But it's still kind of cool for me to think that, even in what should have been my darkest hour since my parents were dragged out of our home in the middle of the night by peacekeepers, I was still able to do something that was completely selfless for someone who truly deserved it.

Which I guess means that the only thing I have left to do before I finally get the chance to look death square in the eye and make him pay for what he did to my family, is to see if I can continue to keep the spotlight, and by extension the ire, of the Capitol fixated on me so that Saralee can at least try to rehabilitate her image in the eyes of the Capitol. Just because she has almost no chance of surviving into the later parts of the games, let alone winning them outright, doesn't mean I shouldn't at least try to help her survive this nightmare for as long as she possibly can.

After all, helping people out by sacrificing myself has kind of become my thing. And seeing as I've only got a couple of days left to live, I really don't see a reason to change-up how I do things…..

* * *

 **Saralee Spelt-12 (D9F)**

"I just don't understand how something like this could happen Saralee. You've always been a very pragmatic young lady, the kind of kid who has never had any trouble doing the smart and sensible thing no matter how hard it was for you to do so."

"I don't know what you want me to say, mommy. I mean, I heard her call my name both times, and both times my brain was screaming at my feet to start moving so I don't get in trouble, but I just….I just couldn't get them to move, even though that's what I wanted them to do."

"I understand that baby. I really do.

"I mean, it's perfectly natural for someone as young as you are to freeze up whenever they're put on the spot like that.

"I just wish that if it had to happen to you, that it hadn't happened at such a horribly awkward and inappropriate time."

I still don't know what my mom wants me to say. I mean, I already feel bad about everything that happened, especially making that nice peacekeeper have to come and find me, but none of that stopped me from being so scared that I just froze.

"It's not like I meant to do it or anything mom. It was stupid, it was unfortunate, and it happened at the worst possible time that it could have happened."

"But it did happen sweetheart, and as much as you may regret it, that really is the only thing that matters at this point. And as much as you may not want to admit it, you know that's the case.

"Don't you?"

"Of course I do mom. I may be young, but that doesn't have to mean that I'm also stupid too."

"I never said that you were stupid Saralee. And I resent the idea of you insinuating that I did."

"That's not what she said dear and you know it. Heck, I don't even think there's a way you could twist what she said to make it seem that she was even implying that."

"Why are you always taking her side, Harlin? I mean, would it really kill you to back me up every once in a while?"

"I bake you up all the time dear and you know it. The only time I don't is when I genuinely believe that you're either in the wrong, or only looking at the part of the picture that supports what you already believe."

I really wish that my parents wouldn't fight in front of me like this. I mean, it's bad enough that I know they argue about stuff, the recent three day shouting match they had over how mom's new work schedule overlapped with dad's in a way that prevented one of them from being home to fix dinner for me and Seymour is all the proof I need of that, but that doesn't mean they have to do so in the same room as me and my little brother.

And don't even get me started on how rude and hurtful it is that they'd rather argue about something as stupid as whose side dad took in an argument instead of trying to spend time with and comfort me before I leave for the Capitol. Just because I've gotten used to dealing with all of my emotional problems all by myself, which normally means I just bottle them up and bury them as deep down as I can until the hurt passes, but this is a whole new level of scary that I really shouldn't have to deal with all by myself.

But just like I've been forced to do with almost everything else in my life that's been difficult or uncomfortable, I know that this is going to end up being yet another one of those tough moments in my life that I'm just going to have to deal with on my own. So that's what I decide to focus all of my time and attention on, even if it's only because doing so is preferable to listing to my mom and dad bicker while my little brother tries to stop them by changing the subject, and within a few minutes I've drifted away from the fear and turmoil of the real world and have wrapped myself up in the relative peace and safety of the non judgmental nature of the cold hard facts of my current situation…..

* * *

 **A/N: First off I'd like to say a super big and extra special thanks to goldie031 and MessyModgePodge for submitting Saralee and Quills respectively. I had an absolute blast getting to know these two amazing tributes and I can't wait to show all of you, especially goldie031 and MessyModgePodge, just what it is I have instore for these two moving forward.**

 **So I'm sure everyone is just as tired of seeing and reading this promise as I am of writing it, but I truly am sorry that it took me so long to get this update out. I had it three quarters or so of the way done within a week of the last update, but the last couple of weeks just kept throwing curveball after curveball at me until I didn't know which way was up, let alone where all the time had gone. But rest assured, the school semester is almost over and then, hopefully, I'll be able to throw myself headlong into getting this story back on track and finished for all of us.**

 **But enough about that, I'm much more interested in hearing what everyone thinks about Saralee and Quills, so please go ahead and leave a review and let me know and I'll be looking forward to seeing all of your happy faces here shortly as we travel to the home of our reigning champion, the oh so awesome and inviting District 10! :D**


	16. The Hand You're Dealt(D10 Reaping)

**Sparkle Freezen (District 10 Escort)**

"Am I really the only person in the entire District that's both super duper nervous yet somehow incredibly excited about today's reaping? Like, seriously the only one?"

"Oh for the love of….Ok Sparkle. This is, at least by my personal count, the one hundred and eleventh, and god willing final, time I'm going to say this to you.

"Yes. You are seriously the only person out of the four of us, and quite possibly the entire district, that is in any way, shape, or form nervous or excited about today's reaping."

"But how is that possible Wren? I mean, how can you and Paige, nevermind James, not be just a little bit excited or nervous about all of this?

"After all, it's not every day that a mentor has the opportunity to mentor a victor in their first year on the job, nevermind the once in a lifetime chance you and Paige have of going back to back this year."

"Because we don't allow ourselves to get as emotionally invested in all of this as you and the other people in the Capitol do. I mean, we still invest ourselves in what's going on and in trying to make sure our tributes do as good as they possibly can, and there's not a mentor in all of Panem that wouldn't give their right arm if doing so would improve their tributes odds of making it out of the arena alive.

"But even with that being said, we also know that getting overly involved is bad for us because the odds of any individual tribute making it home in a given year are never as good as the odds of them getting butchered like cattle at some point along the way are. And unlike the people in the Capitol, we don't have the luxury of just shrugging our shoulders and cheering for someone else when that happens.

"The games are a whole different kind of animal for those of us out here in the districts Sparkle, a whole different animal."

You know, part of me kind of wishes I hadn't heard her say all of that. I mean, it's not that I don't already know that's how she, and to a lesser extent damn near everyone else that lives in the district, feels about the Games. Because I'd have to be blind or some kind of an out-and-out moron not to. But that doesn't mean I enjoy hearing it come out of her mouth. Especially not when she feels the need to go out of her way to compare how she and hers feel about the games to me and mine.

Of course, I know better than to call her out on this, at least not at this particular time or in such an incredibly public place. So I set about the difficult task of forcing myself to bury my anger at her very rude and unnecessary comments about me and the Capitol, and instead focus on making sure that I'm as ready as I can possibly be for what I still believe is going to be far and away the most fun and exciting day of my admittedly short career as a Hunger Games Escort.

And as luck would have it, that's exactly what I'm able to do. And after thirty or forty seconds of relatively tense and awkward silence between the two of us, the majority of which I'm more than a little embarrassed to admit I spent staring at Wren out of the corner of my eye in an incredibly ticked off and miffed manner, the two of us are joined by Paige and an incredibly wide-eyed and uncomfortable looking James.

"It's about time the two of you showed up. Sparkle and I don't have nearly enough in common with one another to be spending anywhere near this much time as the others only viable source of company."

"Oh come on Wren, don't go selling yourself short. I happen to think you were doing an absolutely fabulous job keeping me company.

"At least that was the case until you felt the need to, as I've heard you say before 'liven up,' our otherwise pleasant little conversation with a wholly unnecessary attack on me and the rest of the good people who call the Capitol home."

Oh for the love of….Why in the hell did I feel the need to add in that second part? I mean, would it have killed me to just keep ignoring her earlier jab and move on with my life? Or at the very least hold it in until the two of us were on the train and I could talk to her offline instead of just blurting it out right in front of her co-mentors?

"Ok, that….That came out sounding a whole lot bitchier and combative then I'd meant for it to."

"It's no big deal Sparkle. I mean, I'm not exactly sure what, if anything, it was that I said earlier that was out of line enough to warrant that kind of a response. But whatever it was I apologize for saying it."

"I don't…..Thank you, Wren. I….I accept your apology and hope we can put my rather shameful and embarrassing ill-timed little outburst behind us, so we can focus on more important things."

Wren doesn't respond to my statement verbally, not that I can say I honestly blame her, deciding instead to offer up a small nod of her head and an obviously fake and forced smile. After the completion of which she spends all of about three or so seconds listing to Paige as she whispers something that I can't quite make out into her ear, before silently motioning for her and James to follow as she silently slips out of the little sitting-room Wren and I had been sharing without even once taking the time to so much as glance in my general direction.

Fortunately, at least as far as I'm concerned, I'm not left alone with my thoughts for very long. Because within maybe a minute or two of my mentors leaving the room, I'm greeted to the ever so sweet and soothingly gentle sound of chimes ringing out from the rafters, which if I remember correctly was the prearranged signal that the mayor was just about ready to get the ball rolling on this year's festivities. And if that is indeed the case, I should be seeing the golden skinned twit the head producer assigned to, as he so eloquently put it, 'tend to my every want and need while I'm in Ten.'

"Excuse me, Ms. Freezen?"

Speak of the devil.

"Yes, Quintillus?"

"I was asked by the head of the production team to let you know that the mayor is just about ready to head out on stage."

"Thank you very much Quintillus. If you would be so kind as to let her know that…."

"She also told me to remind you that means you have somewhere between three and five minutes until you're due to follow suit, so you need to be out in the foyer with everyone else in no more than two."

"Thank you Quintillus. Please let her know that I've received her warning and will be joining up with the mentors in the foyer in just a second."

I don't bother to watch how, or even if, Quintillus responds to everything I just said. Because not only do I not honestly care, at least not in the grand scheme of things, but I've got more important things, not to mention people, that I need to be worrying about right now. The fact that he also managed to screw up my coffee when I first arrived, despite it being far and away one of the simplest orders in the history of the world, is neither here nor there.

Instead, I focus on quickly and efficiently dismissing him, which I accomplish with a quick and passive wave of my hand, before sliding out of my chair and sauntering across the room in the general direction of what appears to be a full-length mirror so I can give myself a final once over before joining the others in the foyer. And once I'm done making sure I look good, or at the very least presentable enough that no one watching back in the Capitol will mistake me for an overdressed peasant, I slap on what is hope is a relatively warm and happy looking smile before elegantly gliding out of the room and into the overly warm and stuffy embrace of the main foyer.

After that, I spend the next couple of minutes making incredibly awkward small talk with James, and to a significantly lesser extent Wren and Paige, as the mayor slowly and methodically introduces each of them in turn. Until, at long last, he finally finishes up with the three of them and is able to turn his easily distracted and senile old mind to the all-important task of introducing me to the assembled masses for what, god willing, will be the final time in his incredibly long and undistinguished life.

"Of course none of you are here to listen to me prattle on about our District's past glories. No, you're here to listen to someone that's far more attractive looking and elegantly spoken then me as she prattle on about a few of the present and future glories that are finally ready to be seized by one, or possibly even both, of our soon to be selected champions.

"And so, it's with that in mind that I'm pleased to introduce to all of you our Capitol Escort. The oh so beautiful, talented, and resourceful young woman who helped guide Panem's newest victor, District Ten's own native son Mr. James Wild, to an upset victory in last years Hunger Games.

"The one….The only…..Ms. Sparkle Freezen!"

"Thank you, everyone, thank you. I have to say, that was by far one of the most stirring and emotionally touching introduction I've ever had the pleasure of hearing. I mean, I spent my entire childhood, not to mention most of my adult life, dreaming of this moment. But now that I'm finally here, standing in the middle of the stage and listing to all of you as you shower me with praise and applause. I finally realize something that I should have known from the beginning, and that's that there is always more that can be achieved.

"Now don't get me wrong. James and I have been on one hell of a run for the better part of the last year, but our time in the sun is about to run out. And once it does, the two of us, and to a lesser extent Wren and Paige, are going to have to decide what comes next. Are we going to be content with just one success and let our foot off the gas, or do the four of us come together and strive to do the impossible and provide Panem with its second consecutive District Ten Hunger Games CHAMPION?!"

I'm honestly not expecting the crowd to react to my last statement with anything more than a marginally loud and polite round of applause. And even then, I'm only expecting that much out of them because it seems to be the only reaction the majority of the people in the crowd are willing, or maybe even able, to give on a consistent basis. And with that in mind, I think it's pretty safe for me to say that I'm more than a little taken aback when they actually respond to my overwhelmingly braggadocious statement, by erupting in a chorus of stage shaking screams and applause.

In fact, their response is so unexpectedly loud and heartwarming, not to mention marketable, that I'm forced to motion for James, Paige, and Wren to stand up and join me at the podium in turn for an impromptu hug and photo opt. Of course that only last for at most a minute to a minute and a half, and once that's done I have to force myself to quickly and efficiently turn all of my attention back to the all-important task at hand. That of picking a pair of tributes that will, unfortunately, end up being be saddled with the monumental task of backing up my earlier boast.

However, even with all of that being said, it doesn't mean that what's happening is any less moving then it would be otherwise. The fact that it'll also be extremely marketable, provided I'm able to luck out and find a way to strike while the proverbial iron is still hot by reaping at least one tribute that's willing to play the district support card for everything it's worth that is. The fact that said card will most likely be the only card either of my as of yet unselected tributes will end up having, or at the very least the only one that's honestly worth playing in the first place, is neither here nor there.

At least not in the grand scheme of things that is.

"You know, I don't think I've ever heard such a loud and heartfelt outpouring of support in all my years as an escort as the one you amazing people just got done giving. The fact that I've only been doing this job for a relatively small number of years, especially when compared to some of my more tenured colleagues, should and in my honest and humble opinion does, have absolutely no impact on the validity of my last statement."

Ok, even I'm willing to admit that my last statement, which I fully intended to somehow be both playful and serious, ended up coming across instead as some terrible combination of contradictory and stupid. Hell, the only good thing about it, and I'm really stretching the limits of the definition of good with this, is that it didn't completely kill the relatively fun and playful vibe we've got going right now. Of course I know better then anyone just how fickle a thing vibes of any kind, but especially good ones, can be in a situation like this. Which also means that I know it's time for me to stop goofing off and fishing for laughs and applause from the audience, and focus on the one, and in reality only, thing that anyone in the world actually wants me to focus on right now.

So that's exactly what I force myself to do. And after taking a couple of seconds to let my bad joke, and by extension the slightly uncomfortable aura it had stirred up, finish dissipating, I finally get the ball rolling on this years festivities. I start by slapping a wide, childlike grin on my flawless alabaster face before ever so deftly plucking my microphone out of its holder while somehow managing to pull off a rather impressive looking triple pirouette that carries me from the back side of my podium to a spot on stage that I hope is more or less the halfway point between the girl's and boy's reaping balls.

"And now, finally and without any further ado, it's my extreme pleasure to announce that the moment we've all been waiting oh so patiently yet eagerly for, has at long last arrived!

"That's right, the District Ten reaping for this, the One Hundred and Fifth Annual Hunger Games to be officially…..OPEN!

"And that means, as I'm sure you all know by now is tradition, it's time for us to find out which strong and determined lass is about to receive the unimaginable honor of serving as the female representative of this one-of-a-kind district."

Normally, I would proudly and definitely underscore my last statement by staring out into the crowd for a minute or two with a pleased look on my face. But for some reason, which I can only assume is my increased awareness of the fact that I've already burned up some, if not most, of my admittedly limited pool of leeway by telling that god-awful joke a few minutes ago, I decide that it's probably in my best interest to forgo further grandstanding if at all possible. So, despite every fiber of my being all but screaming at the top of its lungs that's messing with tradition is an absolutely terrible idea, I force myself to do exactly that.

And within a fraction of a second, I find myself mumbling nervously under my breath as I slowly, and I hope seductively, saunter my in the general direction of the snow colored ceramic cow head that it serving as the girl's reaping ball. Once I'm there, it takes me all of maybe three or four seconds to oh so delicately slide my left hand into the middle of the small mountain of salmon-pink colored slips of paper, snatch up the first slip that manages to find a way to brush across the perfectly manicured tip of my curled up ring finger, and quickly retreat back to my original starting point.

"And the name of that oh so fortunate young lass is…..Piper Anneliese Lark!"

It takes me all of maybe a second and a half to recognize the name, more specifically the last name, of the young woman I just reaped. Unfortunately, it took the crowd about half as long to do the same thing. And within a couple of seconds of my announcement, the relatively laid-back and jovial atmosphere that had permeated the square a few seconds earlier has all but evaporated. And in its place, I and everyone else is treated to an atmosphere that I can best describe as being a terrible combination of stunned silence and complete and utter disbelief.

Which as anyone could imagine, is bad enough on its own. But today isn't done screwing with me yet, no sir. Because about a minute or so later, after the replacement atmosphere had had ample time to settle in and begin to dominate the area, we're all treated to the sight of a relatively attractive young girl of average height with waist length dark-brown curls and stunning forest-green eyes. As she carefully navigates her way out of what I believe is the sixteen-year-old girls' section before starting down towards me and the stage, with a look of pure bewilderment etched on her beautifully pale, freckle covered face.

Fortunately, at least for me, Piper decides that it's in her best interest to take her sweet ass time walking up on stage. Which, as much as I hate to admit, even is it is only to myself, is nothing short of a godsend as it gives me just enough time to collect myself and come up with something that at least sort of resembles a plan that I hope will allow me to spin this shocking turn of events in a way that helps everyone involved.

Well, here goes everything…..

"Well, would you look at that. For the first time in my career, I've got myself a tribute who's already a certifiable household name in her own right.

"I mean, I may not know Piper personally, but everyone in Panem has at least heard of, if not been directly affected by, the Lark family. It would be hard not to, considering they are far and away the single largest supplier of beef, pork, and chicken in the entire country and all."

"To be fair, my family has recently fallen to second place when it comes to per pound chicken exports. We still lead in the other two categories, as well as in overall numbers, by a relatively wide margin. But it wouldn't be fair for us to continue to claim a title we don't currently own."

"I see. Does that mean it would be unfair of me to start referring to you as Panem's next Hunger Games champion as well?"

"I'm not sure it would really be unfair for you to do so Sparkle, but I do believe that it would be unwise.

"I mean, it's not that I wouldn't absolutely love for that to end up being my future, because I would. But my dad also taught me from a very young age that it's never a good idea to start counting your chickens before they have a chance to hatch."

"It sounds to me like your dad is just as profound and wise at giving advice as he is shrewd in his business dealings. Of course, I'd imagine he'd have to be in order to have become as wildly successful as he has."

"Oh, that's nothing Sparkle. I mean, if you think my dad is profound, wise, and shrewd, you should see how my mom is. When she gets going, she can talk circles around anyone and make my dad look like a fish out of water without even trying."

"A trait it seems that you not only admire but might have been fortunate enough to have inherited."

"Oh, I obviously admire it. I mean, I grew up watching my mom make miracles with nothing more than a few well-placed words and the right tone of voice. As to whether I'm capable of doing the same thing. Well, I think that should stay my little secret for the time being. Don't you?"

"You know what, I think….I think I do. I mean, just because I want to know everything about you, doesn't mean there's a reason for you to spill your guts with the whole world watching.

"However, I do fully expect you to share all of your secrets with me once we're on the train. I mean, it's one thing to make everyone else wait, but I'm not nearly patient enough to do so myself.

"Do we have a deal?"

"Do I really have a choice?"

"Not really. No."

"Then I guess we have a deal Sparkle."

"Outstanding.

"Unfortunately, our little agreement, coupled with your desire not to reveal any more about yourself then you already have, means that it's time for us to stop talking so that I can find myself a tribute that will hopefully be just a little more open and a lot less guarded..."

I fully intended for that last part to be a little bit of a good-natured rib at just how coyly and effortlessly Piper had managed to deflect my last couple of questions without making herself look bad. But I'm not sure that anyone, and in this case, I really do mean anyone, in the crowd, took it the same way that I had intended them to. But I know that this really isn't the time or place for me to be dwelling on the fact that I may not actually be as funny as I thought I was.

Instead, I focus on quickly but gently leading Piper across the stage to her appointed place in front of the girl's ball. Planting what I hope is a sufficiently playful and flirty looking kiss on her perfectly freckled cheek. Before finally sauntering off across the stage in the general direction of the comically unimposing looking ebony bulls head that has been chosen yet again to serve as the boy's reaping ball. And once I'm finally standing in front of it, I take a deep breath, close my eyes tight, and thrust my hand into the very center of the small pool of papers nestled safely inside the bull's head.

A few seconds later, after I've safely retreated back to the spot a few steps in front of the podium that I believe is the middle of the stage, I gingerly unfold the slip of paper I chose and announce the name scribbled within in as clear and excited a voice as I can muster at this point.

"And the name of the lucky lad that gets to team up with the ultra-shrewd and calculating Piper Lark is…."

I never get the chance to read off the name that's written on my chosen slip. Ok, that's exactly true. I mean, I did get to read the name on my slip of paper. But no one outside of the thirty or so twelve-year-old boys that happen to be standing right next to the stage, along with the small handful of oddball adults and teenagers out in the crowd with superhuman hearing, will ever know what the name of the young man who had been oh so tantalizingly close to immortality.

Of course the main reason for this is because, for the first time in my entire career, I'm treated to the oh so sweet sound of the four most beautiful words in the history of mankind being screamed out by an incredibly bold young man who just wasn't willing to risk his chance at glory by waiting to see who it was that I actually reaped.

"I VOLUNTEER AS TRIBUTE!"

The next few minutes pass by in an absolute haze of beautiful, if slightly mind-numbing confusion, despite also managing to drag on for what seems like an eternity. Of course the reality is that it probably takes all of one and a half to two minutes from the time my new tribute utters the four most important words of his young life to the second he slides nonchalantly out of the fourteen-year-old boys section and starts to casually stroll towards the stage with a supremely confident look smoldering in his dark-brown eyes.

And it's a damn good thing that he's got that confident look and strut in his back pocket. Because as much as I hate to admit this, especially since I still haven't actually met my new tribute, confidence may end up being the only bullet this kid has in his gun at the end of the day. I mean, it's not like it's really his fault that's the case, there's just not a lot that's truly interesting, nevermind marketable, about this obviously underfed and scrawny looking little boy. Hell, the only thing about him that might, and I do mean might, be the least bit marketable is the fact that his dark brown skin marks him as a highly exotic oddity in a predominantly white and Hispanic place like District Ten.

"Well, would you take a look at that everyone. It appears that this already delightful little day has decided to give us an extra special parting gift.

"I mean, I've always dreamed of being lucky enough to hear those four obscenely stimulating words come out of someone's mouth, but I never imagined that I would be lucky enough to hear them in the first year after the lifting of the volunteering moratorium.

"Then again, none of you honestly cares about any of this as it is. No, you're much more interested in getting to know more about our brave little volunteer, and I for one am more than happy to oblige and make him the center of attention. At least for the next three or so minutes that is….."

I don't know why I felt the need to add in that last part. I mean, everyone in the square already knows that I only have a couple of minutes left in my broadcast with which to interview my new tribute. The stupidly annoying quartet of red lights hanging above the stage told them as much when the first started flashing five or so minutes ago. But for some stupid reason, I felt the need, for the third time I might add, to try to turn something that is anything but comical into a joke. And for the third time in as many tries, it seems that my doing so is going to bite me in the ass.

* * *

But, just like the first two times this happened, I know I can't afford to waste time crying about my totally unnecessary, and at this point entirely inexcusable, stupidity. At least not with the entire world watching my every move that is.

Instead, despite my insane desire to make it as hard to do as humanly possible, I force myself to focus on the task at hand. Which is, at least right now, to find out something fun and interesting about the pathetically scrawny looking bag of bones that is my first ever Hunger Games volunteer. Like his first and last name, or something to that effect….

"Welcome my dear boy, welcome. It's an absolute pleasure to finally meet you…..?"

"Mazeem….My name is Mazeem Law."

"Mazeem?"

"Did I stutter Sparkle or are you just hard of hearing?"

"Neither. I just wanted to make sure that I heard you right is all. I mean, your name is just so….Different and unique that I wanted to be sure that I was saying it correctly."

"Well, you did. So good job with that."

"I….Thank you very much Mazeem.

"But I'm sure everyone here would like to know more about you than just your name, and seeing as we're a little pressed for time as it is…."

"I'm going to go ahead and stop you right here before you waste any more of your supposedly important time rambling. Because I have absolutely no intention, none whatsoever, of sharing my life story with you or anyone else."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Ok, seriously, am I speaking in a different language or something?"

I have no idea what in the hell I'm supposed to do. I mean, Mazeem is a volunteer, and volunteers are supposed to be….I don't know….More open and forthcoming than this. But he's not, and for some stupid reason, that simple fact is so mind-numbingly incomprehensible to me that I don't have the slightest idea how to deal with it.

Unfortunately, or maybe fortunately given my current state of bewildered confusion and uncertainty at what I'm supposed to do next, I don't have enough time to actually figure anything out. Because after spending the better part of a minute trying to unscramble my brain and say something, really anything that'll get the ball rolling again, I catch a glimpse of one of the Capitol producers that traveled out with me to film the reaping, waving her arms around like a lunatic to let me know that I am officially out of time and needed to wrap things up asap.

"Well Mazeem, if you really don't feel like sharing anything about yourself with us I'm certainly not going to force you to do so. Especially since we're just about out of time as it is.

"And with that in mind, it's time for everyone here in ten to get on their feet and make some noise for District Ten's newest champions. The oh so cool, calm, and collected Piper Anneliese Lark, and her stoically indomitable and mysterious district partner, Mr. Mazeem Law!

"And as always, I want to wish all of you and yours a very happy and safe Hunger Games. And may the odds be ever in your favor…."

* * *

 **Mazeem Law-14 (D10M)**

"You've got a visitor kid."

"I've got a what?"

"A visitor. You know, some person that decided to come and see you one last time before we ship you off to die for your stupidity in the Capitol."

I can't for the life of me figure out who in their right mind would want to visit me. Sure there are a couple of kids my age in the children's home that don't hate me, but I can't imagine any of them going out of their way to come and say goodbye to me either. At least I don't think they would.

"Look, kid, I haven't got all day and neither do you. Now, do you want to see your visitor or should I send him away?"

"No. There's no….You can go ahead and send whoever it is in."

I still can't figure out who in their right mind would waste time coming to say goodbye to someone like me. But I guess I really don't have anything to lose by finding out either. I mean, it's not like seeing and talking to whoever my visitor is can possibly make things any worse for me than they already are.

A few seconds later, which is just enough time for me to start daydreaming about just how awesome it's going to feel tonight when I go to bed with a full stomach for the first time in my young life, the peacekeeper returns with a middle-aged white man who I'm pretty sure I've ever seen once in my entire life.

"Hello, Mazeem. I'm sure you've got a bunch of other people out there waiting for their chance to see you before you leave, so I promise not to take up too much of your time."

"Don't….Don't mention it Mr….?"

"Oh I'm sorry, where are my manners?

"My name is Harold Gunderson, and I'm the father of the young man whose place you took when you volunteered for the games."

"I see…."

"I don't think you do son.

"You see, there are only a few people in the entire District that actually heard the escort read off my son's name. And while the majority of those who did promptly forgot what they had heard the second that you volunteered, I'll never be able to do so myself."

"I hate to say this Mr. Gunderson. But if you came here to thank me for volunteering for your son then you're wasting your time.

"The truth is, I wasn't even kind of paying attention to Sparkle, or anything that she happened to be saying or doing, when I volunteered. In fact, I honestly don't think I heard a single word that came out of her mouth at any point in the day.

"In fact, the only time I actually paid attention at all was for that quick couple of seconds from the time she picked the boy slip to the time she started to read off the name that was written inside of it. And even then, I was more just watching her eyes and her lips for signs that she was getting ready to read the name off than anything else."

"I expected as much. I mean, there are very few people in Panem that do anything out of the goodness of their hearts. But that doesn't mean they don't deserve to be thanked properly for doing something that helps another person out.

"I mean, my son is all I have left in this world. He's the most important person in my life, and for that brief couple of seconds when I thought I was about to lose him to the Games…."

I have no idea what this man is expecting me to say. I get that he's happy that I volunteered to take his kids' place in the arena and what not. But he doesn't seem to understand that it was nothing more than stupid dumb luck that put me in a position to do so in the first place. I mean, I was going to volunteer for the Games no matter what. The fact that my doing so could save someone else's life, honestly never crossed my mind until this guy came in and started talking about it.

"I don't….I honestly don't know what to say, Mr. Gunderson."

"You don't have to say anything Mazeem. After all, I'm the one that strolled in here and put you on the spot for something you already did at a time when you have more important things to worry about.

"But like I said, I would be remiss not to have taken a second out of my day to come and say thank you to the young man who saved my son's life. And to make sure that you don't head off to the Capitol not knowing that, despite the fact that almost everyone in Ten is going to be cheering for that Lark girl, my boy and I will be in your corner no matter what."

"I…..I appreciate that Mr. Gunderson. I really do….."

* * *

 **Piper Anneliese Lark-16 (D10F)**

"I don't see what the big deal is, dad. I thought Piper handled herself as well as anyone could have possibly expected her to given the circumstances."

"And that right there Ben, that comment. Is exactly what I don't trust you to negotiate anything more complicated and important than a new feed deal without me present. You have zero concept of just how important it really is to look and sound confident and in control at all times when you're dealing with the enemy."

"Oh for the love of. What enemy are you talking about dad? Her mentors? Her escort? Or are you referring to that fourteen-year-old who volunteered to be her partner? The one who looks like he would have one hell of a tough time tearing up a piece of paper? Are those the 'enemies' she needs to look strong and 'in control' in front of?"

I hate it when my dad and brother get like this. I know they both mean well, in their own strange and hard to understand way, but it gets a little….disheartening, to have to sit here and listen to them argue like this when everyone knows that there are so many more important things we could all be doing. The fact that they're talking about me like I'm not even in the freaking room, which is the single most annoying thing a person can do in my book, just makes it that much harder for me to put up with.

And seeing as I have no real reason to do so, other than my desire not to start a fight with my family during what might be the last few minutes we'll ever have together, I guess it's past time for me to speak up and make my opinion known.

"Oh, would the two of you please just shut up already? I mean come on, there has to be something more productive the two of you can do with your time. Especially considering you have so little of it left with me."

I think it's safe to say that my little outburst caught everyone, with the exception of my older brother who never seems to be surprised by anything, more than a little off-guard. I mean, all my mom, and to a lesser extent my little sisters, can do right now is stare at me with slack jaws and wide eyes, and don't even get me started on the look of unfettered infatuation and indignant outrage currently plastered on my dads face.

Fortunately, it's my big brother, and not one of the others, that recovers first and is able to find his voice.

"You're right Piper. I'm sure there was a more diplomatic way you could have said as much, but that doesn't make you any less correct.

"So, what exactly is it that you'd prefer we be doing Piper?"

"At this point? We could talk about damn near anything and it would be a better use of our time than just sitting here and listening to you and dad argue Ben.

"Because in case everyone has forgotten, this isn't just another lazy Saturday afternoon at home where the two of you just happen to be engaged in yet another pointless philosophical debate. We're sitting in the Hall of freaking Justice waiting for a peacekeeper to come back and tell us that our time together is up and I need to go board a train to the Capitol.

"So if it's not too much trouble for everyone. I would really appreciate it if we could just agree to make everything about me until I leave. Is that really too much to ask?"

I really didn't mean to snap like that. I mean, I meant every word that I just said, some a little more vehemently than the others, but that doesn't mean any of them were less true. But that doesn't mean everyone in the room needed to hear me say as much. Especially since my little outburst could very well end up being the lasting image of me that my family takes away from all of this.

"I didn't….That came out so wrong that it's not even funny….."

"It's ok Piper. Especially since you're right.

"Your brother and I have been acting like grade a jerks this entire time and for that, I'm truly sorry dear. And while there's no way for us to turn back the clock and un-waste the time we've already wasted, there's nothing stopping us from doing the smart thing and making sure we don't waste any more of it.

"And since we don't know how much we actually have left, and you don't seem to have a particular topic or direction you absolutely have to cover before you go. I think it would be a good idea for us to just start with what your plans are for dealing with your district partner and mentors and then move out from there.

"Provided that sounds good to you of course."

"That's the best idea I've ever heard dad. And like you said, we don't have a moment to spare so I think we'd better go ahead and get started….."

* * *

 **A/N: First off, aside from apologizing yet again for being so dreadfully slow with my updates and missing my own self-imposed deadline to have one out, I'd like to say an extra special thank you to Mistycharming and FronTierBrain for submitting Piper and Mazeem to the story. Both are absolutely amazing and I look forward to showing everyone just what it is I've got in store for them once we get to the Capitol :)**

 **So I'm pretty sure we've covered that I'm atrociously bad at meeting my self-imposed update deadlines when I'm in school. which is partly do to my tendency to procrastinate like there's no tomorrow and partly to the sheer volume of work I was dumb enough to take on over the summer. However, I really am still trying to get these updates out as fast as I possibly can, so please don't give up on me or the story as I have some pretty big and exciting things planned for the future and I'd hate for them to go to waste.**

 **But we can worry about all of that later. Right now, I'm much more interested in hearing what everyone thinks of Piper and Mazeem. So please, leave a review and let me know and I'll be looking forward to seeing all of your happy faces at the next update :D**


	17. Grasping at Straws(D11 Reaping)

**Honorius Odain (District 11 Escort)**

I've never really thought of myself as a particularly frivolous or, as some might call it, 'hoity-toity' type of person. But there's a small part of me that absolutely cannot stand how little effort the people of Eleven put into decorating their district for the reaping. Every year as I board the train to come out here I say to myself, at least there's no possible way the district can look worse than it did last year. And every year I'm forced to eat my own words as the people who call this shit-hole home, somehow manage to find a way to fail to live up to my already embarrassingly low expectations.

Hell, the only real saving grace that this woefully incompetent district seems to have, and I honestly might be reaching just a little by calling this a saving grace in the first place, is that it used to be decently adept at producing somewhat decent tributes. The fact that I've been serving as its escort for a little over thirty years and only had around three or four, two of which came in the same year and resulted in my only victor killing her district partner in the final showdown, is neither here nor there. At least I guess.

"So, what do you think of the job we did old man?"

Speak of the devil….

"Excuse me, Violetta?"

"I asked you what you thought about the work we put in and then followed up by calling you an old man. Honestly Honorius, sometimes it's like you're not even actually listening to me when I talk."

"OK, I'm almost positive I'm going to regret doing this but seeing as we have a little time to kill I guess I'll go ahead and bite anyway. What do I think of what?"

"All the work we put into decorating the square for the reaping of course. I mean, I'm not one to brag, but the Mayor did put me in charge of decorating at the last possible minute so I think we did a pretty good job all things considered."

"I….I um…."

"Did you….Did you really not notice any of the hard work and effort that I put into making this place look presentable? Like, at all?"

What in the hell does Violetta honestly expect me to say here? I mean, it's not like I really want to insult her and all the "hard work" and "effort" she put in to "decorating" the square. But it's not like I'm the kind of person that's going to look her in the eye and lie about something as pointless and trivial as this either.

Then again, I guess there's probably a way for me to tell her the truth, or at least a version of it that is capable of satisfying my very real and pressing desire not to lie outright, without also hurting her feelings in the process. I just have to hurry up and figure out what that answer actually is before she gets fed up with my silence and decides to take my continued lack of an answer, as her answer.

"If you're referring to the small handful of surprisingly elegant looking temporary statues, the ones that appear to be dedicated to your past victors, that someone, I'm guessing you, set up in a sort of half-circle around the periphery of the tribute staging area. Then the answer is yes, I did notice them Violetta, and they look very nice."

I'm not sure what, if anything, that I just said was the least bit funny. I mean, as far as I can tell I said everything with a straight face and the same flat, marginally dismissive tone of voice that I say everything else with, but that didn't stop Violetta from cracking a small smile and covering her mouth as she let out a relatively soft and muffled, but still fairly audible and quite noticeable, giggle as I was finishing up my little spiel.

"You know something Honorius. You'd think that after working with me for somewhere near thirty years that you'd have learned a thing or two about me and yourself by now."

"I'm not sure what you're talking…."

"There. You just tried to do it again."

"I don't know what you're….What? What did I try to do Violetta?"

"You tried to lie to me, Honorius. Which, for the record, is an absolutely terrible idea because you have got to be, without a doubt, the single worst, least convincing, and most unenthusiastic liar in the history of forever.

"Hell, your body language and tone of voice are usually enough to give you away when you so much as think about lying, let alone when you're actively trying to do so. And don't even get me started on the slightly disturbing fact that on more than one occasion, I've been able to tell that you were lying even when you thought you were actually telling the truth…."

I don't…..I don't have the slightest idea how I'm supposed to respond to that.

I mean seriously, how in the sam-hell am I supposed to respond to such a pointed and matter of fact statement? Especially since the only ways that I can come up with to possibly do so, at least in the heat of the moment, would only serve to make me look even worse, or god forbid dig me an even deeper and more imposing hole to claw my way out of, than I already do and have. The fact that, and I absolutely loathe the very idea of having to admit this, even if it is just to myself, damn near everything that was just said about me is as true as true can possibly be, is neither here nor there at this particular point-in-time.

Unfortunately, or maybe it's fortunately, it really depends on how the rest of the day goes at this point, I'm not given nearly enough time to sit there and dwell on this crap until I can come up with a halfway decent answer to my own question. Instead, Violetta decides to give me just enough time to become aware, if not a wee bit self-conscious, of my apparently super easy to read and incredibly obvious facial expressions and mannerisms, before letting out a small giggle and slapping me on the back in a slightly hard and entirely too familiar a manner.

"Relax Honorius. I was just kidding around and you know it."

"You were?"

"Of course I was. It took me the better part of a decade to pick up on all the subtle tells and hints your body sends out when you're lying. And it was only recently that I actually started picking up on the lies that you didn't know were lies…."

I'm not sure if that was supposed to make me feel better about all of this or worse, let alone whether she was being serious in the beginning, or if she really was just, as she put it, kidding around and is being serious now. I mean, Violetta has never really been the joking type, she's gotten more frisky and playful in her old age, but she's still nowhere near normal in that regard. So I'm understandably hesitant to believe her when she says that she was just kidding around. The fact that I also have absolutely zero reason, literally none whatsoever, to believe that she would lie about something so trivial, at least to my face, only makes it that much harder for me to know what to actually believe.

Unfortunately, or maybe, fortunately, depending on how all of this ends up affecting my state of mind, I'm not given the chance to really dwell on anything that Violetta just said. Because within mere seconds of my starting to do so, I, and more importantly my poor defenseless ears, are quickly and rudely assaulted by a deafening chorus of shrill sounding bird tweets. Which after a couple of seconds I'm able to realize is supposed to be the signal that the Mayor, who apparently loves this kind of natural 'music' despite the fact that you would have to be clinically insane or completely and utterly tone-deaf to actually enjoy listening to it, and my production team had been given the green light by someone in the Capitol to start the District Eleven Reaping live feed.

The next five or so minutes, the majority of which I spend trying to push the last vestiges of what Violetta said out of my mind while also preparing myself mentally for the upcoming 'festivities', pass by in an absolute blur. I vaguely remember being unceremoniously shuttle between no fewer than five rooms, all of which had to have been decorated by someone whose sense of style matches the mayor's taste in music, while being subjected to such horrors as an incredibly condensed and confusing recap of the first ten reapings, being forced to change my undershirt and tie, having the wrinkles in my suit jacket and pants steamed out, the latter of which was done with them still on my body, and a fresh coat of makeup being applied to my face. After which I had all of three or four seconds to collect myself before I was all but thrown through the mud-colored steel doors at the front of the Hall of Justice, and into the 'welcoming' embrace of a square full of unenthused and tepid looking 'fans'.

"Good afternoon District Eleven! My name, as I'm sure you all no doubt remember quite well, is Honorius Odain. And as always it is an absolute pleasure, nay a privilege, for me to be here in District Eleven and to once again serve as your Escort and guide to all things Capitol for this, the One Hundred and Fifth Annual, HUNGER GAMES!

"Now, I'm sure you're all just as anxious as I am to find out which lucky young man and courageous young woman are going to be representing all of you, as well as this incredibly unique and storied district, in said Games. Not to mention get out of the sun so you escape the worst of this unseasonably hot and muggy weather. So I think it would be in all of our best interest for me to go ahead and skip all of the fancy schmancy wordplay I would normally insist on trotting out for such a special occasion, and just get right down to business and find out just who your new tributes are going to be.

"And we'll start that off, as tradition and proper etiquette dictate, with the selection of the female tribute…."

I wasn't actually expecting anyone in the crowd to respond to my opening statement, more so because I can count the number of times they've done so in thirty-three years on one hand and still have fingers left over, so I'm not the slightest bit shocked when they decide to sit on their hands and stare at me with curious mix of passive-aggressive indifference and out right indignation. The fact that they continued to glare at me like that from the time I first slid around the corner of my podium and trotted off in the general direction off of the absolutely hideous looking sunflower-yellow colored stained glass girl's reaping ball, to the time I slipped back behind said podium and began to unfold the small slip of mud-brown colored paper I had chosen so I could read the name scribbled within, was a new one for me. The fact that I was able to keep myself from showing just how uncomfortable and tense that it was making me, which I guess would count as a lie of omission, which according to Violetta is something I'm terrible at doing, is nothing short of a freaking miracle.

Not that any of that honestly matters at this particular point in time. No, the only thing that actually matters right now is that I've still got myself a Reaping that needs to be finished, which is something I'd like to do in as quick and uneventful a manner as I possibly can. Of course, the only way for me to do that is to stop standing around and read off the name of the female tribute I just selected. So I guess that's exactly what I need to do….

"So, the name of our incredibly lucky little female tribute is…..Ms. Lexy Bloom!"

Oh, it looks like the crowd decided to mix things up this year. Last time, which was all of three or four minutes ago at the very most, they responded to my announcement by glaring at me in what was by far the most uncomfortable and indignant yet somehow still passive-aggressive and indignant manner I've ever seen. But this time around, they decided it would be a good idea to glare at me with an even more unsettling and disturbing mix of extremely passive-aggressive indignant and completely disgusted indifference.

I mean, I'm not sure how they pulled it off. Especially since those two particular sets of emotions seem to be as opposite from one another as is humanly possible. But they not only found a way to reconcile that issue, but to do so in a way that has allowed for both the indignation and indifference to be present on their faces at the same time. Which under different, or at the very least less tense circumstances, might be even more compelling and interesting then it already is.

The fact that this is an incredibly tense and uncomfortable situation already, and that I'm getting more and more uncomfortable and jittery with each passing second that they continue to glare at me like I'm somehow personally responsible for every unfortunate and terrible thing that's ever happened to anyone in the history of the world, is neither here nor there. As long as I have a small army of heavily armed and armored peacekeepers standing between me and the people glaring at me that is….

Fortunately, at least in my book, the tension is defused by the rather quick and sudden appearance of a pale-skinned young woman of about average height with beautiful blue eyes and a head full of sun-kissed honey-blond waves that I can only hope and pray is my tribute Lexy. I mean, I know that I have absolutely zero reason to believe that this young woman is not Lexy, or at the very least a different young lady that's interested in volunteering to take Lexy's place in the arena, but that doesn't mean I don't have a laundry list of reasons to be cautious as well.

And while a great many of those concerns are quickly and decisively alleviated as I continue to watch this relatively attractive and exotic, at least by the admittedly low standards of District Eleven, looking young woman stroll towards the stage at a reasonably even and decisive looking pace. The only thing that keeps all of my concerns from being addressed, is that this young woman, whom I'm now fairly positive is in fact Lexy, if only because anyone with half a brain that was intending to volunteer would have already declared their intentions to do so, is making little to no effort to hide the fact that she's not nearly as excited about having been reaped as everyone in the Capitol would like to think she should be.

"Well this certainly is a pleasant little surprise now, isn't it? After thirty plus years on the job, I had given up hope that I'd ever be surprised by just how stunningly beautiful and exotic one of my tributes looked.

"I mean, I've had my fair share of beautiful tributes, and I've definitely had my fair share of exotic tributes, but this is the first time I've ever been fortunate enough to thread the needle and end up with the ultra-rare duo of beautiful and exotic.

"Of course no one wants to hear me gloat or lament my previous luck. No, I'm almost positive that you'd much rather hear from our newest tribute herself. And with that in mind, I'm going to go ahead and turn things over to Lexy so that she can introduce herself to everyone."

"Thank you very much Mr. Odain. But outside of confirming that I am indeed Lexy Bloom, which I'm sure is something that you and everyone else already knew, I'm going to have to decline to share anything else until I get some assurances from you."

"Well, that certainly is an interesting and novel approach isn't it. And while I do respect your boldness in asking for this, I also can't help but wonder just what kind of understanding it is you were hoping the two of us would be able to come to Lexy?"

"Why the kind that brings a swift and complete end to your unnecessary obsession with my physical appearance of course."

"I see….Planning to corner the market on modesty before anyone else has the chance to take it away from you are we?"

"Not really. I mean, in reality, I'm probably as far from modest as a person can be without being an honest to god narcissist. But that doesn't mean I enjoy being objectified in such a blatantly false and unnecessary way.

"After all, there's a good chance that I'm going to be dead in a week or so, and the last thing I want people to remember about me is that my escort couldn't seem to stop himself from raving about how cute, and as you so wrongly put it exotic, he thought I was."

Well, this is just fucking fantastic, isn't it? I mean, it's not like I wasn't already facing an uphill battle when it comes to selling this incredibly sour and sullen-looking little girl to sponsors, because I obviously was. But now that she's gone ahead and taken away what might have been my only possible sponsor selling point, and did so on national tv in a way that makes it abundantly clear that she's not even the least bit interested in being sponsored solely because of her looks, it's going to be nearly impossible for me to get her any sort of sponsorship at all.

"If that's what you want my dear than I'd be more than happy to acquiesce to your request. After all, the two of us will have plenty of time once we're on the train to sit down and discuss just how it is you'd like me to package and sell you to the sponsors in the Capitol."

"Thank you very much Mr. Odain."

"Please dear, call me Honorius. I mean, we're going to be living together for the better part of the next week, so there's no real reason for us not to be on a first name basis."

"If you insist."

"Indeed I do. my dear.

"Now, I know we're running a little short on time here, but I'd like to give you the same opportunity to address the people of your district that every other tribute is afforded. So, is there anything you'd like to say to all of your throng of adoring fans before you embark on your once in a lifetime journey to the Capitol?"

"Oh, you have no idea how much crap there is I want to say to these people Honorius. I've done and said so many unnecessarily mean and hurtful things in my life that I could easily spend the rest of the day apologizing for them and never even begin to make a dent in what I've got to apologize for."

Well, what do we have here?

"But I'm not going to spill my guts here."

Oh for the love of...Of course, you're not...

"Instead, I'm just going to say that I'm sorry for what I've done, and that should I be fortunate enough to survive the Games, I'll spend the rest of my life trying to make amends to those I've hurt."

"That was…..That was very beautiful Lexy. And I'm sure I speak for everyone here when I say that I hope you get the chance to make good on your promise. Having the chance to do so seems to mean a great deal to you, and I can think of no more fitting ending to this year's games than the one that allows you to fulfill your promise and complete your journey towards forgiveness and redemption. And with the good people of District Eleven backing you, I'm not sure how you could fail.

"Of course the future isn't written in stone, which means that the only things we can be certain of in life, are those that are going on in the here and now. And right now, I think it's time for everyone in the crowd to get on their feet and show our newest tribute just how much we love her and the incredibly selfless sacrifice she's about to make on our behalf!"

For the first time today, and what might be just the ninth or tenth time in my entire freaking career, the audience responds to one of my applause cues by breaking out in a small but noticeably loud bout of actual applause. And even though it only last for about thirty or so seconds, just long enough for me to take Lexy by the hand and lead her across the stage to her assigned spot in front of the Girls ball and retrace my steps to my assigned spot in front of the podium, before starting to taper off and then abruptly ending, I can't help but smile a little on the inside. Even if it is only because I can't seem to believe that it was Lexy, who may be far and away the single moodiest looking and acting tribute I've had in a good long while, who helped me get the response in the first place.

"Well now, that was certainly an incredibly interesting, and I dare say highly invigorating way to start thing off now, wasn't it. And to be perfectly honest with you all, I'm not sure how any of the multitudes of young men I could select as Lexy's district partner could even dream of topping what she just did. But I'm sure there are more than a few young men who would love the opportunity to try.

"So, with that in mind, I think it's high time for me to stop talking and get a move on so that we can give whichever lucky young man I end up picking, a fair chance to try to top Lexy…."

I don't believe for a second that anyone in the world, outside of a few hundred or so deranged morons in the Capitol, actually bought that load of crap I just tried to sell. I mean, you'd have to be a certifiable moron, or live in your own fantasy world surrounded by like-minded loons and sycophants, to have even considered doing so. The fact that I'm even thinking about any of this when none of it actually matters, either at this particular time or even in the grand scheme of things, is neither here nor there.

And it's with that particular fact in mind that I turn my full and undivided attention towards the all-important, if still slightly boring and anticlimactic, task of selecting a male tribute for District Eleven. Which is exactly what I do, this time without the overbearing weight of the entire crowd scowling at me like I'm the sole source of evil in the universe, by carefully but cheerfully bounding across the stage towards the boy's earthen-colored stained-glass reaping ball, snatching up the first slip of mud-brown colored paper that catches my eye, and gleefully retreating back behind my podium and unfolding said slip with all the restraint of a kid with a sugar-rush that's just been turned loose in a candy store.

"And the name of your incredibly brave male tribute, who will also have the unimaginable privilege of working side by side with the incredibly mysterious and alluring Lexy is….Eun….Eunon….Euonymus Flax?!"

Well, this is a fan fucking tactic way to start the second half of this crap off, isn't it? I mean, it's not like this is the first time that I've messed up a tributes name the first time I tried to say it, and it damn sure isn't my fault that this poor boys' parents gave him such a stupid and impossible to pronounce name in the first place, but that doesn't change the fact that I absolutely butchered this poor kids name. Even if it is his fault that his name is absolutely impossible to pronounce.

Fortunately, which could end up being good or bad depending on how everything else ends up playing out, no one in the crowd seems to be all that interested in calling me out on my little faux pas. Not that I honestly expected them too, especially once I get around to taking the crowds history and general disinterest into account, but that's not going to stop me from breathing a small, if relatively unnoticeable, sigh of relief as I patiently scan the assembled gaggle of boys for any sign of Euonymus.

And after about a minute and a half or so of patient waiting and scanning, I'm rewarded with my very first glimpse of a dark-skinned young man of normal height and build, which may be a bit on the muscular side in certain areas, with dark-brown eyes and a head full of super dark-chocolate colored hair that he's got swept up in what I think is supposed to be some sort of quiff do.

I spend the next couple of minute giving Euonymus, who seems hell-bent on dragging out what should have been a relatively quick and uneventful stroll to the stage for as long as he possibly can, as in-depth and through a once over as I can manage on the fly. And while even I have to admit that I do like most of what I see, especially the fact that he's just as attractive, if not more so, then his admittedly attractive district partner. Which is district full of generally unappealing looking and malnourished people is nothing short of a certifiable miracle. There's something about him, or more specifically his general demeanor that rubs me the wrong way.

"Welcome my dear boy. Welcome."

"Thank you very much Mr. Odain. It's a real pleasure to finally make your acquaintance."

"Oh, I can assure you that the pleasure is all mine Euonymus.

"And for the record, I hope you'll accept my very sincere and heartfelt apology for how terribly I butchered your name when I first read it off."

"Well, of course, I will Mr. Odain.

"After all, you're not the first person to have trouble with my name, and I can assure you that you won't be the last. In fact, there have been times during my life, more than I'd honestly care to admit, when I've had trouble pronouncing it correctly."

"If you're trying to make me feel better than I have news for you Euonymus. It's working!"

"Please Mr. Odain, call me Euni. It's what all my friends and family call me."

"Only if you agree to start calling me Honorius and stop with all of this Mr. Odain crap."

"You've got yourself a deal. Honorius."

"Excellent. Euni.

"So, we don't have a lot of time left, your movie star walk up ate up a good chunk of it and our little back and forth just burned through what little we had left, but I'm going to go ahead and say screw the red light and give you a chance to address the people of your district before we go off the air Euni.

"All that I ask, is that you keep it as short and sweet as possible so that I don't get fired before we get back to the Capitol."

"And I thank you for that Honorius. The fact that you're willing to take such a big risk on my behalf is truly touching. But the things is, I honestly don't think I have anything to say right now.

"After all, anything I have to say to anyone in my life that matters to me can, and in all reality should, be said in private. And as much as I hate having to admit this, I don't have a deep, dark, secret lurking in my past that I need to atone for.

"I mean I wish that I did, don't get me wrong on that, especially since I know full well how much more mysterious and intriguing having one has made Lexy seem. But I just don't have one. And seeing as I'm not nearly creative enough to make one up on the fly, I'm going to have to just say thank you to everyone here in Eleven and I hope that I can make all of you proud in the arena."

I don't think Euni is being honest with me right now. Or at the very least, not as honest as he's trying to make it seem like he is.

"I think that's an incredibly fitting way to things Euni. I really do.

"But with that being said, and my broadcast coordinator's incredibly angry voice ringing in my ears, I think it's time for us to wrap all of this up so we can move on to bigger and better things.

"But before we go I'd like to ask the crowd for one more big, heartfelt round of applause for their newest tributes, the mysteriously alluring Ms. Lexy Bloom, and the incredibly dapper and refined Mr. Euonymus Flax.

"And as always, I want to wish everyone here in Eleven, as well as those watching this broadcast across the breadth of our great nation, a very happy and safe Hunger Games. And may the odds be ever in your favor!"

* * *

 **Euonymus Flax-18 (D11M)**

I really wish that my mind would let me focus on how upset I should be at the fact that I might never get the chance to finish writing my second book. I mean, I know that worrying about something like that may seem super stupid and trivial, especially given my current predicament, but it would be infinitely better to focus my attention on that then on the fact that I could be dead by this time next week. The fact that I might also die without anyone in Panem knowing that I ever wrote a book in the first place, let alone that I was working on a sequel that would have revolutionized the way we grow and care for crops in Panem, should make it next to impossible for my brain to let me focus on anything else.

But for some unknown and entirely unexplainable reason, it doesn't. So instead of worrying about and focusing on one of the few things that might give me an honest to god reason to fight for my life once I get into the arena, I'm sitting here dwelling on the fact that my older brothers decision to spare me after I saw him smash a lamp over our dad's head before calmly and casually slitting his throat, may well have been what put me in this situation in the first place. And try as I might, I can't seem to find a way to get my mind off of this subject.

I mean, all Miro had to do was walk over to the corner I was hiding in and drag the knife across my throat the same way he did dad's and….And….

Stop it Euni….Just….Just stop it. Please?

Seriously, what good can possibly come of continuing to follow this particular train of thought to its very dark and uncomfortable end? It's not like I'm going to feel better about what happened that night, and it definitely isn't going to help me figure out what I'm supposed to do next in order to survive my current predicament, so there's really no sane reason on Earth to keep fixating on it like I am. Which makes my inability to focus on anything else in the entire world all the more frustrating and concerning.

But even with all of that being said, I know that I need to keep doing everything in my power to readjust my focus, regardless of how hard it ends up being. I just hope I'm able to do so before I get to the Capitol. Because the last thing in the world I need, let alone can afford to do, is spend my very limited time in the Capitol, which I need to use as fully to my personal advantage as I possibly can, trying to fill in the very real and pressing gaps in my knowledge base before heading into the arena.

And so, despite the fact that I know full well that this is going to be one heck of an uphill battle, although to be fair nothing in life worth doing is ever not an uphill battle, I steel my heart, and my importantly my mind, towards forcing myself to focus on the stuff that actually matters. And as the seconds continue to tick off the clock, each one bringing me that much closer to boarding the train that will unceremoniously whisk me away from my home and into the waiting arms of a bunch of people who would like nothing more than to see me die as gruesome and painful a death as humanly possible.

But I guess I can worry about that when the time is right….

* * *

 **Lexy Bloom-17 (D11F)**

"You've pulled your fair share of stupid stunts in your life Lexy, most of which have embarrassed your mother and I more than either of us would care to admit, but nothing, and I do mean nothing, will ever top the one you pulled today.

"I mean come on Lexy. It was one thing to tell your escort that you didn't like him hitting on you, which is outrageous when you consider the fact that you've been flirting with men three to four times your age since the day you turned ten, but don't even get me started on all of that unnecessary, and might I say stupid, 'apology' crap."

"Oh for crying out loud. Would it kill you get off your high horse for one second and comfort our daughter like she needs to be Blackthorn?"

"Don't you start with me to Azalea. The last thing I need right now is to be worrying about you when I've got a major disaster to clean up. Thanks to our daughter that is."

"She didn't do anything wrong dear. In fact, I'd go so far as to say that she played that situation as brilliantly as anyone could have possibly expected her to. Especially given the circumstance and unexpected nature of the situation."

"When are you going to stop defending her Azalea? What is it going to take for you to realize that, as perfect as Lexy may seem in our eyes, that she has a serious issue with putting her foot in her mouth at the most inopportune times imaginable?"

"I don't know dear. Probably around the same time that you start to realize that screaming your head off about how something turned out after the fact isn't going to change what happened."

I hate it when my mom and dad get like this. They don't argue all that often, mainly because neither of them is ever home from work long enough to do so. But when they do manage to find the time to do so, and a subject that's honestly worth going at it over, it's almost impossible to get them to stop. Heck, my dad's outburst a few seconds ago was the first time either one of them has said more than five consecutive words to me since they first walked into the room almost fifteen minutes ago. And even then, I'm not sure my mom's question of 'how are you holding up', actually qualifies as words of comfort or encouragement.

"Can we just move on daddy? Please?"

"No, we can't just, 'move on' Lexy. I mean seriously, you know full well that a Bloom never apologizes to anyone, no matter what they did. We stand our ground until the person or persons that feel wronged apologize to us for insinuating that something we did or said had somehow offended them."

"I understand that daddy, and under normal circumstances, I never would have dreamed of doing what I did. But…."

"But what Lexy?!"

"But these aren't normal circumstance. In fact, they're as far away from normal as one can get. And with that in mind, I decided that it was a good idea for me to make sure that I didn't leave anything that I wanted to say before leaving for the Capitol unsaid.

"It just….It just wouldn't have felt right."

"And you just decided that you feeling better about something was more important than protecting yours and your families image? It's bad enough that you were reaped in the first place, which for the record is not something that's supposed to happen to a Bloom, but then you had to go and compound that failure with an even more egregious one.

"I mean, do you have any idea how bad it made you look? How bad it made your mom and I look?"

"That's not her fault and you know it Blackthorn. She had no more control over whose name Honorius picked out of the ball than anyone else did."

Sometimes I don't know why I even bother trying to reason with my dad, especially when he gets on one of his kicks like this. Because when he does, which in his defense isn't all that often, it's almost impossible to get him to listen to anything, no matter how right or logical it may be. So even though I love him dearly, and I desperately want to help him understand why I did what I did, I know that I'm not going to be able to do so.

Instead, I decide to trust that my mom will read him the riot act once he has a chance to calm down, and simply slide back into the warm and welcoming embrace of my overstuffed armchair and slip away to my happy place as the last few seconds of my goodbye time slowly tick off the clock….

* * *

 **A/N: First off, I'd like to give a super big and extra special thanks to AmericanPi and DaughterOfTigris for submitting Lexy and Euonymus to the story. Both of them are incredible tributes and I look forward to showing everyone what it is I've got planned for the two of them going forward….**

 **So at this point I have no real idea why updating is taking me so long, and I'm not going to keep making promises that I'll update quicker in the future because every time I do, something inevitably comes up that forces me to take even longer then before to get a chapter out. I will apologize to everyone for taking so long, I know it's a pain and it's very out of the ordinary for someone that used to update twice a week to now be lucky to get out 2 chapters a month, but I do appreciate your patience and understanding, as well as all of the support you've continued to give me and this story :D**

 **But enough about that, I'm more interested in hearing what you think of the Lexy and Euonymus, as well as the story as a whole, so please drop me a review and let me know. And as always, I'll be looking forward to seeing all of your smiling faces at the next update, which is the long await District 12 Reaping! :D**


	18. Be Careful What You Wish For(D12 Reaping

**Valora Peak (District 12 Escort)**

I didn't think it was possible for this shit hole of a district to smell any worse than it did normally. I mean seriously, no one in their right mind, not even me, could have possibly imagined that it would be possible for Twelve to top its normal stank, which is an unholy combination sweat, despair, soot, and spoiled meat. But that was before the train pulled into the station and found myself, and more importantly my nose, being immediately assaulted by the worst smell I've ever had the extreme displeasure to smell in my entire life.

The fact that being inside the Hall of Justice has done nothing to suppress or even reduce the odor and its overpowering presence, if anything it may have actually gotten worse since we stepped inside, only serves to make things feel, and more importantly smell, that much worse than they probably actually are.

"Again Ms. Peak, the mayor would like to apologize for the less than appealing way things smell.

"As I'm sure you were already made aware, the district's waste and sanitation systems have been in desperate need of major repairs for at least the last ten years. Unfortunately, no one got around to fixing them, or even patching them up, until just a few days before that big rainstorm hit the area and caused a small flash flood. And well, I'm sure I don't have to explain to you what happens when a normally closed system is left open and exposed to flood waters like that…."

"No, you do not. I mean, I can see, and more importantly smell, the results just fine for myself thank you very much….

"I mean seriously, you've had almost a month to clean this mess up and you still haven't even gotten the smell around the Hall of Justice under control. Never mind the seemingly endless supply of trash and human waste."

Ok, even I'm willing to admit that came out sounding a lot bitcher and mean then I had originally meant for it to. I mean, it's not this poor girls fault that her boss, the mayor of district twelve, is completely inept and incapable of doing his job, let alone that her entire district smells like shit and death. She just happened to be the representative of said district that was unfortunate enough to be in my crosshairs when my patience for this shit hole, and the unending stream of excuses its 'leaders' have for why it's always in such rough shape during the reaping, finally ran out.

Of course, I'm not going to admit any of this to her, or anyone else for that matter, because I'd rather be regarded as a mean and unfeeling bitch by these people then some sort of overly apologetic and weak little girl. After all, I've only been on the job for six years now, so the last thing I can afford is to show even the slightest bit of weakness in front of these uncouth heathens. Because doing so would not only allow them to eat me alive, which would be a one of a kind embarrassment in its own right, but it would also bring a swift and inglorious end to my burgeoning career as a Hunger Games Escort.

"And with that being said, I'm going to need you to let the mayor know that, in light of the….less than satisfactory conditions the District is currently in, are going to force me to invoke rule seven and conduct this year's Reaping on an incredibly compressed and accelerated timescale."

"As you wish Ms. Peak. But I'm sure the mayor is going to ask why you're doing this, so is there a specific answer you'd like me to give or should I just refer him to you for that?"

"If he does ask, you can go ahead and tell him it's because I refuse to stand around and subject myself, never mind my future tributes, to these abhorrent sights and smells for any longer than I absolutely have to.

"And if he has a problem with that, please tell him that I'd be more than happy to conference with him and the President so that both of us can explain our concerns, and allow her to make the final call."

I feel terrible for putting this poor girl in a situation like this. I mean, I can tell by the absolutely terrified look in her eyes that she's never so much as considered talking back to anyone with even the slightest bit of power or authority in her entire life. Yet here I am, all but forcing her to go and do that very thing, even though we both know the Mayor is going to be pissed at my decision, and that she's the only one of the two of us that's going to have to face any of the potential wrath and fallout.

But at this point, after being subjected to such a disgustingly unacceptable level of filth and squalor for the better part of the last hour, during which time all of my concerns have been at best dismissed with passive apathy and at worse passively aggressively disregarded as frivolous and unimportant, I can honestly say that I don't really give a shit anymore. I mean, it's not that I don't want to care, because a small and very annoying part of me most certainly does, so much as it is I've just had enough of all the apologizing and excuse making to last me a lifetime.

Unfortunately, apologizing is all anyone in this district seems to be able to do right now. And so, instead of spending what little time I have before the Reaping starts trying to suppress my gag reflex, I'm forced to spend it fending off one unwanted and half-assed apology after another as anybody with even a smidgen of power or visibility in Twelve is all but lining up outside my door to do so. Which would have been bad enough on its own, but when you add in that the majority of that time was wasted listing to a totally trashed Haymitch slur his way through a nearly fifteen minute apology that happened to double as a lamenting that he never told my predecessor, who also happens to be my boss, how much he enjoyed working with her, and it becomes a damn near unbearable slog.

"You'll tell her how sorry I am when you get back to the Capitol right?"

"Why don't you just go to the Capitol this year so you can tell her yourself Haymitch? I mean, I'm sure Onyx would appreciate the help, especially since Katniss and Peeta spend the entire time they're in the Capitol being shuttled from one incredibly expensive and exclusive party to the next."

"Oh, I could never do that. Even if Onyx hadn't all but banned me from coming with him to the Capitol, Effie made it quite clear the last time I saw her that she wanted nothing more to do with me until I got my drinking issues under control. And as I'm sure you can see for yourself, I'm about as far from having done that as I've ever been."

Well, I guess I really can't argue with him on that point. So with that in mind, and in the interest of brevity, as well as my unchecked desire to maintain my increasingly unstable grip on my sanity, I decide to promise that I'll pass along the message for him. I mean, it's not like he's ever going to remember that we had this conversation in the first place, even if he somehow manages to stay off the sauce long enough to sober up a bit, so it's not like I'm taking all that big a risk by making the promise in the first place.

Once that's done, and I'm finally able to flag down someone that's not 'super busy' with something 'ultra important' so they can haul Haymitch's nearly catatonic ass out of my 'dressing room', I'm finally able to turn my attention away from all the crap, both literally and figuratively, and towards making sure that I look and smell somewhat presentable for the Reaping. After all, just because this district happens to look and smell like shit, doesn't mean that I have to as well.

The fact that I end up having all of maybe two and a half to three minutes to do so before I'm interrupted by a knock at the door, which I can only assume is emanating from the hand of my brain-dead twit of an assistant, the one that I sent to talk to the Mayor, and who's now undoubtedly coming to tell me she's done so and that it's time for the 'fun' to commence, is neither here nor there.

"Oh for the love of….What is it now?!"

"I'm sorry to bother you again Ms. Peak. But the Mayor just finished up with his speech and is about to start introducing the victors."

"Fantastic. Be a dear and let me know when he's done with Abernathy's introduction so that I can start making my way towards the door."

"That's the reason I'm here ma'am. The mayor has decided, in the interest of brevity, to forgo the individual intros and instead just do one big group intro.

"Which means that you've got about thirty to forty seconds from the time he starts introducing them to the time he should be introducing you."

I'm not sure what's more surprising at this point, the fact that the Mayor actually listened to me, or more specifically my aid, when I told him to accelerate the timeline, or that he actually thought ahead for a change and decided to help save even more time by grouping all the victor intros into one big one. Of course, neither fact really matters, at least not right now. No, the only thing that matters is making sure that I'm downstairs before the mayor actually gets around to introducing me. So I guess that's what I need to be focusing on doing.

So, with that in mind, I gently but decisively push past my aid and into the hall. From there, I quickly but speedily glide down said hall, race down the central spiral staircase, and bound into my assigned spot in the main foyer just a few seconds before the mayor announces me to the masses. Causing the massive basalt double doors at the front of the hall to gently flutter open, bathing me in soft white light and almost instantaneously increasing the awful smell that's been swirling around me since I first arrived to intensify ten-fold.

But as I step outside of the Hall and into the overpowering embrace of the single most disgusting smell in the history of the world, I force myself to admit, even if it is only to myself, that this isn't the appropriate time or place for me to be focusing on everything that's wrong with today. And so, with that in mind and despite my better judgment, I slap a wide and playfully happy grin on my face and seductively saunter out into the middle of the stage.

"Good afternoon District Twelve, and thank you all very much for that incredibly warm and touching introduction. As I'm sure you all remember by now, my name is Valora Peak and it is my extreme pleasure to be here, in what is by far the single greatest district in all of Panem, to serve as your escort to all things Capitol for this, the One Hundred and Fifth Annual, HUNGER GAMES!

"Unfortunately, as I'm sure you can all guess, recent events have made it impossible for me to spend as much time with all of you, as well as your absolutely breathtaking district, as I would normally like.

"And while that fact saddens me to no end, I'm extremely confident that one of your two soon to be selected tributes will help make it up to me by claiming this year's title and affording me the unimaginable privilege of returning not just for the Victory Tour, but for the Harvest Festival Celebration as well!

"But I'm getting just a bit ahead of myself now aren't I? I mean, we can worry about all the parties and celebrations after we take care of business in the Capitol. Of course, the only way for us to take care of said business, is for me to go ahead get off my fanny and pick out a pair of tributes to represent all of you in the arena. So I guess that's exactly what I'm going to go ahead and do.

"And as always, we'll start things off with the selection of your female tribute…."

I decide that it's in my best interest not to stand around and wait to see how the crowd responds to my last statement. Instead, I simply lower my head, which allows me to take my gaze off the crowd without showing my disgust for the line of crap I just fed them, before quickly and methodically strolling across the stage in the general direction of the girl's smoke colored granite reaping ball. And once I'm finally there, I spend the better part of the next minute pretending to study the small mountain of coal-black colored slips of paper nestled safely inside of the ball, if only because doing so also happens to double as a convenient way to hide the fact that I'm currently on the verge of losing my ongoing battle with my gag reflex. Before quickly snatching up the slip on the tippy-top of the small paper mountain and quickly retreating back to my starting place in the middle of the stage.

"And the name of the lucky young lady that I also happen to be placing at least half of my hopes for a return to Twelve later in the year is…..Cora Arrowood!"

My announcement of Cora as the district's newest tribute is met, much like I expected it to be, with a very small and almost inaudible smattering of applause with a half a dozen or so distraught and emotionally crushed gasps mixed in for good measure. Which, as I've already sort of said, is pretty much par for the course as far as District Twelve reactions go.

Unfortunately, at least for me and my hopes of winning my still ongoing battle with the stench, everything being par for the course means that I'm forced to spend the better part of the next five minutes waiting 'patiently' for my newest tribute to finally show her face while being continually serenaded by an unending chorus of sobs that I can only assume is coming from one of Cora's friends or relatives. The fact that said sobbing not only continues, but intensifies after Cora finally gets around to making her big entrance, only serves to make it that much more annoying.

After all, I have more important things to worry about now. Like how in the hell I'm going to manage to keep myself from vomiting while I lie through my teeth about how impressive and attractive my newest tribute is. The question as to whether said vomit would be because of the still very pungent and disgusting smell that's permeating every nook and cranny of the square. Or my own inner disgust at being forced to talk up yet another tribute that's going to be nothing more than cheap and forgettable cannon fodder in a week's time. Is a question that I'd rather not know the answer to.

So instead of worrying on any of that, which is a hell of a lot harder than it has any right to be, I force myself to focus on Cora, despite the fact that there's not a lot there for me to get excited about. I mean, it's not like she's not a total loss from a physical standpoint, at least as far as District Twelve is concerned, but she definitely has more cons than she does pros. After all, her soft grey eyes and deep, dark-brown hair, which are easily her most striking and noticeable features, are a dime a dozen when it comes to tributes. And when that's combined with her that her incredibly thin and gangly looking body, I'm almost positive that a moderately strong breeze could knock her on her ass with little to no effort, and her gaunt and sunken face, which is a tell-tale sign of the malnutrition that damn near every kid in this district seems to share, and you've got yourself a super shitty and forgettable tribute.

Which means, at least as far as I'm concerned, that if her personality is anything short of stellar, which I highly doubt it will be, there's no reason for me to waste my time helping this girl….

"And here I thought that I had seen it all. I mean, I've seen my fair share of tributes that know how to make an entrance during my life, but I've never seen one that so perfectly balanced said entrance with so much anticipation and suspense.

"I'm not sure how you're going to top this Cora, I'm really not. But I can assure you that I, as well as everyone else, will be looking forward to seeing you try."

"I um…..Um…..Thank…..Thank you very much, Ms. Peak."

"Oh it's my pleasure dear, it really is.

"So, as I'm sure you heard me say earlier, we don't have a lot of time to conduct all of today's festivities. So as much as I hate to do so, especially since I know full well just how important first impressions can be, I'm only going to be able to give you a minute or two to address the crowd, Cora. I hope you understand."

"I do Ms. Peak. And as luck would have it, I really don't think I have anything to say right now."

"You don't?"

"Not really. I mean, I have a bunch of stuff I want to say to my mom and dad. But I think I should do that in private so I don't embarrass myself in front of the entire country."

"You're not just saying that because we're short on time and you don't want to risk forgetting to thank or mention someone important. Are you?"

"Nope. I just….I just honestly don't have anything that I want to say right now. At least, not in front of the entire country anyway."

"Well, I can respect that Cora. Talking in front of such a large crowd is an incredibly intimidating thing to do for even the most experienced and open of people. And in my personal experience, it's always best to stay quiet if you're not sure of what you want to say.

"Of course the fact that staying silent like this only adds another layer to your already impressive aura of mystery, doesn't hurt either."

"Aww, I guess you've seen through my obviously not very well hidden or obscured plan of attack already Ms. Peak. I guess I'll have to try harder next time."

"Would you listen to this! Not only is Cora going out of her way to stay shrouded in mystery, but she's got a sense of humor about it too.

"Trust me on this Cora. If you keep this same mindset the entire time you're in the Capitol, I can all but guarantee that you'll have zero trouble attracting sponsors and allies.

"But that will have to wait until later. Right now I think it's time to let you have a few seconds to bask in the love and adulation of your adoring fans and then find out who your district partner is.

"So get on your feet and show the world how much you love your newest female tribute. The one and only Cora Arrowood!"

I'm not sure what's more surprising, that I managed to make it through Cora's interview without hurling in disgust, or that even I was starting to believe some of the crap I was trying to pedal. I mean, not tossing my cookies during all of that was nothing short of a certifiable miracle, but the fact that I knew for a fact that I was talking out of my ass the entire time, and was somehow starting to buy into all of my crap, is just as miraculous.

Of course, this is, as much as I hate to admit it, something I can and should push to the side and worry about at a more appropriate time and in a more appropriate place. Right now, I need to be focused on not only the monumental task of selecting a male tribute, but finding a way to do so, as well as complete the young man's introductory interview, before my luck runs out and this smell finally becomes too much for me to bear.

So that's exactly what I do. And after giving Cora about half a minute to wave to the cameras, as well as the half a dozen or so people in the square that seem to be interested in sending her off with a bang, I quickly guide her over to her assigned place on the stage before darting to the other side of the stage and quickly plucking a slip of ash-grey paper out of the boy's coal colored granite reaping ball. From there, it takes me maybe ten seconds to glide back to the middle of the stage, snatch up my microphone, unfold my chosen slip, and quickly but efficiently study the name scribbled within.

"And the name of Cora's district partner, who also happens to be the young man I'm placing the other half of my hopes for a mid-winter Victory Tour return to Twelve is….."

I never get the chance to finish what I was saying. Because within a couple of seconds of my starting to talk, I and my ears are treated to the bellowing declaration of the four most beautiful words any escort can possibly hope to hear…..

"I VOLUNTEER AS TRIBUTE!"

I can't….I honestly can't believe that I just heard those words. I mean no one, or next to no one, ever volunteers for the Hunger Games, not in District Twelve anyway. Before today it had happened all of one, count it one, time in the last One Hundred and four years. And that makes today, of all days, the second day Twelve has had a Hunger Games volunteer. And I, the one and only Valora Peak, can now take my place in the history books next to my current boss as the only two escorts who have had the privilege of escorting a District Twelve volunteer to the Hunger Games.

And while I know that this shouldn't be anywhere near as exciting as I'm making it, especially since the odds are fairly high that my volunteer will be just as bad, if not worse, of a tribute as Cora is. But for some reason, I can't help but smile and giggle softly, which makes me feel like some sort of brain-dead school girl, as I wait for my brave little volunteer to show me his face.

And after maybe thirty or forty seconds of anticipation building silence, he does just that by brazenly and authoritatively shouldering his way through, not around but through, a small gaggle of frightened looking young men on the edge of the eighteen-year-old boys' section. Which in addition to making him look a bit stronger and more intimidating than he might normally be, I won't know for sure until I get to know him better, allows for everyone in Panem, myself included, to get a good look at my volunteer in comparison to a handful of his peers.

This gives me a chance to begin to truly appreciate some of his more unique and potentially marketable qualities, such as his absolutely gorgeous sapphire-blue eyes and short jet-black hair, as well as his slightly above average height, he might be an inch or two taller than the majority of his peers, and his slightly muscular and well filled out frame, without having to drag things out longer than I absolutely have to. So that's what I spend the next two and a half minutes doing, closely examining every single inch of me increasingly delicious looking tribute, whose actual name I can't wait to finally learn, as he slowly but confidently strolls towards the stage with an angry but determined look etched on his surprisingly attractive looking face.

"Well, things just got a hell of a lot more interesting than they already were not didn't they? I mean seriously, I never imagined in a million years that I'd be able to top Cora as a tribute, but that was before I went out and scored myself a shiny new volunteer like…."

"Ash….My name is Ash Colton"

"Did you say, Colton?"

"I sure did."

"That name sounds super familiar to me for some reason. But I can't for the life of me figure out why or where I might have heard it before."

"You might be remembering it because of my big brother Dominic. He was the male tribute a few years back."

"That's it! He was a few years before my time as your escort began, but he was big news that year and everyone in the Capitol was talking about him. He was especially popular with the girls, myself included, that were enrolled in the Escort Training Academy.

"Well, at least he was until he snapped…."

"I'm well aware of what happened during my brothers Games Valora, everyone in Twelve is."

"Of course you are Ash. But I do have to ask, is that why you decided to volunteer, to make up for what your brother did in his games?"

"Ok, I think we need to get something straight right off the bat here. My reasons for volunteering, as complicated and multifaceted as they are, have absolutely nothing to do with what happened during Dom's Games.

"I'm sure that you and my mentor would prefer that it did. Because we all know that tributes with redemption stories like that practically sell themselves to sponsors. But it doesn't. And if it's all the same to you, I'd appreciate it greatly if you'd….refrain, from bringing Dom or his Games up again."

"If that's how you want it, Ash."

"It is."

"Ok then. I can't speak for the other people in the Capitol, like your stylists or our incredibly inquisitive Mistress of Ceremonies, but I can promise you that I won't bring any of this up again."

"Thank you very much, Valora."

"But with that being said, would you care to let all of us in on the real reason that you decided to volunteer?"

"Not until after I have a chance to talk to my family and explain it to them."

"I see.

"Well in that case, unless you have something about yourself that you'd like to share with the crowd, I think it might be time for me to wrap things up so you can go ahead and have that conversation with your family."

"By all means…."

God, this kid is infuriatingly closed off and vague, even for someone who just might be actively trying to be so as part of an angle. And who does he think he is calling me by my first name like we're old friends? Closed off, vague, and ill-mannered is a dangerous combination for any tribute to roll with and I don't mean that in a good way.

"Well, there you have it, folks. District Twelve's two newest tributes are, the incredibly mysterious and witty Cora Arrowood, and the ultra-reserved and stoic Ash Colton! And it's in there very strong and capable hands that I now place my hopes and dreams of making a return trip this winter for the One Hundred and Fifth Annual Victory Tour.

"But only one of them can win, and the only way for us to find out which one of them has the guts to do so, is to tune in and watch as they fight for the honor and glory of Panem, as well as District Twelve, in this year's HUNGER GAMES!

"So make sure you tune in to watch, follow your favorite of the two closely, and cheer hard. And as always, please remember to be safe and happy during this year's Hunger Games festivities. And may the odds be ever in your favor!"

* * *

 **Ash Colton-18 (D12M)**

I don't think I've ever seen my dad this mad in my entire life. I mean, I knew he was going to be mad, he has every right to be mad as far as I'm concerned, but I didn't think he would be this mad. Hell, the last time he was even sort of this upset was when that reporter lady from the Capitol tried to interview me after my brother died during his games.

"We just….We just don't understand why you would go out of your way to do this to yourself, Ash. And we definitely don't understand why you would do it to us."

"Come on dad, you know why I had to do this. You have to."

"No son, I'm afraid that I don't.

"What I do know is that before you went ahead and through your life away you were finally in the clear. I know that your mom and I spent seven years hoping and praying that your insistence on taking as many tesserae as you could wouldn't come back to bite you in the ass one day. And I know that you've got a little sister that loves and idolizes you that is absolutely heartbroken and terrified about what just happened.

"And for the love of God please don't even get me started on your mother. Because if you think I'm mad about this, and I can tell that you do, then I don't know what your mom is. I don't think they've invented the word for how she feels."

"And I understand that everyone is upset. But if you'd just take a deep breath, take a step back, and look at this from my point of view…."

"Then I'd be seeing things exactly like I do now.

"I'd be seeing my son continuing to sprint down the same self-destructive path he's been on since his brother died."

"That's not true and you know it, dad."

"Then that is the truth Ash? Tell me why you did this. Give me one good, solid reason that you volunteered, just one, and I'll drop the subject and go grab your mom and Misty so they can say goodbye."

I don't….I don't believe this crap. I mean, can my dad really be so upset at me that he honestly doesn't understand why I did this? Is his anger at me and my decision really that blinding?

"I'm not sure you really want me to answer that question dad…."

"Of course I do Ash. I need you to answer it because I need to understand why you're throwing your life away like this.

"But more importantly, I need to understand why so that I can sit your mother and sister down and explain it to them when they start asking why.

"So please, for the love of God, stop beating around the bush, stop trying to be coy, and just tell me why you did it Ash…."

I really hate it when he does crap like that. It was already hard enough for me to volunteer in the first place, and that was back when I assumed my dad, as mad as he was inevitably going to be about my doing so, would understand the underlying reasons why I had to do it. But since he obviously doesn't, and I don't think I could bear the thought of not telling him, or god forbid forcing him to hear me explain it during my pre-game interview, I guess I have no choice but to lay it all out there for him.

"The reason I volunteered was that I didn't have a choice dad."

"What do you mean you didn't have a choice?"

Well….Here goes nothing….I guess….

* * *

 **Cora Arrowood-16 (D12F)**

I don't think I've ever been more excited and scared in my entire life as I am right now. I mean, I've always dreamed of getting to visit the Capitol, but I never, not in my wildest dreams and fantasies, imagined that I would ever get the chance. Because no matter how bad I wanted to see the Capitol in person, and I really, really, REALLY wanted to see it in person, I also never wanted to be a tribute either. And since becoming a tribute is the only way someone like me was ever going to get to the Capitol, I just sort of accepted that my dream was never going to be anything more than that, a dream.

"Why did this have to happen to her though? What did we do as parents, as people, to deserve having to watch our sweet little girl go through this?"

"Would you stop saying things like that dear? A, it's no one's fault that this happened. It was a very unfortunate freak accident that no one could have possibly seen coming. And B….."

"But that's just it dear, we should have seen it coming. She's been taking out three tesserae a year since the day she turned twelve. Add in the fact that people are having fewer and fewer kids, and that we have the highest infant mortality rate in the world, and the fact that we had a healthy daughter putting four slips a year into a ball that was getting emptier by the second was a disaster waiting to happen."

"Even if all of that is true, it doesn't mean that Cora being reaped is an unfair punishment. It just means that her old string of luck finally ran out and she has to start a new string of it for the Games.

"Of course none of that matters now. Because B, none of this, and I do mean none of it, is going to help her in the slightest and you know it…."

I absolutely hate it when my parents argue like this. I mean, it's not like they do it all that often to begin with, at least not when I'm around or within earshot of them. But that just makes the rare occasions when they do fight all the more difficult and distressing for me to sit through. The fact that, for the first time in my young life I'm in complete agreement with my mom's opinion on something, is only making this argument that much more unbearable for me to sit through. And no matter how hard my dad tries to spin this, and no matter how much effort he puts into trying to make mom, and to a lesser extent me, feel better about what happened, the more annoyed at him I get.

Because at the end of the day, and I really do hate having to admit this because it does force me to agree with the woman I've never seen eye to eye with while also disagreeing with the man who whose opinion and point of view I've never once even considered questioning, my mom is right. About everything.

She's right about the fact that I'm only in this situation because the world is unfair and has forced me, ME, to put myself at risk more often than my peers because doing so was the only way my family could survive. She's right about the fact that all of this is, in no uncertain terms, a very unfair punishment being heaped on me because of other people's screw-ups and bad choices. Which leads me to my biggest problem with all of this, and that's just how thoroughly unfair all of this is in general.

But I guess that how unfair all of this is really doesn't matter, not in the end anyway. No, the only thing that matters is that I'm about to head off to the Capitol, where I'm almost certainly going to die a very painful and unfair death, and there's nothing I or anyone else in the world can do about it. So, as much as I'd like to stop my parents from arguing, and instead talk about all the cool and amazing things I'm going to see and do when I'm in the Capitol, before all of that unfortunate and unfair fighting and dying thing gets rolling, I'm not going to do that. At least, not in a verbal way.

Instead, I quietly slide out of my overstuffed armchair and quickly make my way over to the other side of the room, where the two of them are still bickering but have started doing so in a much softer and less confrontational tone, and wrap my arms around the both of them as tightly as I can.

And as the tears start to roll down my face, and as the last few precious seconds I have with my family continue to tick off the clock, I can't stop myself from dreaming of the life I and my family could have if I somehow managed to win this thing. And it's with that dream seared into my memory that I finally let go of it all and begin to sob like the frightened little girl I really am….

* * *

 **A/N: First off, I'd like to give a super big and extra special thanks to radnewsbarrett and Tribute Scott for submitting Cora and Ash to the story. Both of them are incredible tributes and I look forward to showing everyone just what it is I've got planned for the two of them….**

 **Well, we finally did it! It took way longer than it had any right to take, but we've finally finished up with the Reapings and can now move on to the good stuff!**

 **So, my general plan from here is pretty much the same as it is in my other stories. I'm planning on 3 train ride chapters with 6 tributes per chapter and 1 arrival in the Capitol/Prep Team Parade Prep chapter with the other 6 in it. After that we'll have 6 training chapters, I like to split the three days in half so that every tribute gets a chance to shine, with 4 tributes per chapter.**

 **I'll do the tribute parade, individual sessions, score reveals, and pre-game interviews from the perspective of the Master of Ceremonies and the Head Gamemaker respectively, and then we'll jump into the bloodbath and the games proper from there :D**

 **But I'll have plenty of time to worry about that tomorrow. Because right now, I'm much more interested in hearing what everyone thinks of Ash and Cora, as well as the entire 24 tribute field as a whole. So please go ahead and leave a review and I'll be looking forward to seeing all of your happy and smiling faces at the next update as we finally hit the road to the Capitol :D**


	19. Hit the Ground Running(Train Ride 1)

**Bijou Devon-17 (D1M)**

I didn't think it was possible for my day to get any worse than it already was.

I mean seriously, how could a day in which I've already been selected to be a Hunger Games tribute. Froze up and shut down in the middle of the crowd of people after being picked. Stupidly announced to the entire world that I had frozen up and shut down in the first place. Been run down and personally insulted by each member of my family in humiliating detail. And then been rudely thrown on a train with three people who can't seem to stand me, and one that doesn't seem to have made up her mind about me one way or the other. Possibly get any worse?

"There's no way in hell I'm putting my reputation on the line after that less than stellar showing during the reaping. He's a lost cause and there's no reason for any of us to be pretending otherwise Verity."

"He's not a lost cause yet dad. He may need a little more work than our average tribute does, but he's also not a fully trained academy volunteer either, so that should be expected."

"You can try talking your way out of this all you want Verity, it's not going to change the situation. But if you really want to work with him then I'm sure as hell not going to stop you. Just don't expect me to come and try to bail you out when this whole thing backfires in your face."

"I wouldn't dream of it daddy."

"Good.

"Oh, and before you get started, make sure he understands that I don't want him anywhere near Isabelle once we get to the Capitol."

"Do you mind if I ask why?"

"Because he's a lost cause from a career district that's already gone out of his way to paint a massive target on his back….."

I can't listen to this anymore. I mean, it's bad enough that I'm here in the first place. But that doesn't mean I have to sit here like an idiot and listen to someone that's known me for all of five minutes talk shit about me. So I'm not going to.

The only problem is, I really don't have anywhere else to go.

We're already in the back of the train as it is, and Savera and Isabelle have already successfully taken up residence on the far side of the compartment. Which means, unfortunately for me, the only way out of here, and away from all the mean-spirited negativity coming from Mr. Sangster, is forward. Which also means that I'd not only have to go through the two of them, causing me to butt into their conversation, but also potentially draw attention to the fact that I'm upset by some of the stuff that's being said.

"That works for me, I need a drink as it is and I'm sure as hell not going to get one back here.

"Isabelle! Verity and I have talked things over and have decided that it's in everyone's best interest for me to mentor you and for her to take care of Bijou. So I was thinking it would be a good idea for the two of us to head up to the bar car and start going over some of the basic while the two of them do the same back here.

"Savera is, of course, more than welcome to join us if you'd like her to do so. Provided she wants to that is…."

Well, that worked out better than I ever could have hoped it would. Maybe my luck is finally turning around.

"Of course Mr. Sangster, whatever you think is best.

"Savera, would you care to join us so we can continue this incredibly stimulating conversation?"

"I would be absolutely delighted to my dear."

It takes Hank, Isabelle, and Savera maybe a minute and a half or so to gather up their stuff and exit the compartment, leaving me and a slightly aggravated and concerned looking Verity alone as the hustle and bustle begins to die down and is replaced by an incredibly uncomfortable and awkward silence.

"I'm sorry that you had to hear all of that Bijou. My dad means well most of the time, but he's never been the most tactful person in the world, especially when it comes to the Hunger Games and his reputation."

"I….I understand Verity. My dad's the same way believe it or not."

"I know he is. I work with him at the academy just like my dad does. And I hope you don't take this the wrong way, but you're nothing like what I would have expected his son to be."

"A fact that I'm well aware of, unfortunately. My dad has spent most of my life making sure that he never misses a chance to tell me just how disappointed and disgusted he is with me and how I turned out….

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't….I shouldn't have said any of that."

"No, it's….It's fine Bijou. You're fine. Really."

"No it's not and no I'm not. But thanks for saying it anyway."

I can't help but crack a smile in Verity's direction after what I just said, and to my surprise, she returns it with an incredibly small smile of her own. And once that smile finally fades away, she quickly plops herself down on the wrap around couch at the back of the car and motions for me to join her. Which I do. Before taking a deep breath and starting in on the one subject I spent my whole life praying I'd never have to cover.

"So, Bijou, what would you say are your biggest weaknesses and gaps that we can work on over the next few days?"

"Well, I hate to admit this, but I think we'll end up saving ourselves a lot of time and effort in the long run if we start things off by covering the handful of things I'm already sort of good at and with and work our way out from there…."

* * *

 **Iridessa "Dessa" Parks-14 (D3F)**

I don't think I've ever been more anxious and uncomfortable in my entire life then I am right now. I mean seriously, what kind of sick, twisted, and sadistic monster decided it would be a good idea to take a long metal tube, cram it so full of crap no one inside of it can move, and then slap wheels on it and use it as a means of long-haul transportation?

Of course, things might not be so bad, relatively speaking, if I was allowed to get up and move around. I mean, looking around and exploring, especially in new and somewhat exciting or previously unexplored places, has always been one of the few things that have been able to calm me down when I get like this. But Sagitarria made it super clear to me that I was not allowed to leave my seat, let alone the super cramped and warm compartment, until she or Quanta specifically told me that I could.

So here I sit, in this massive armchair with cushions so big and soft that they could swallow a man whole and leave no evidence, in a room that I'm almost positive is getting hotter by the second, twiddling my thumbs absent-mindedly while slowly but surely going insane. And at this point, I'm starting to worry that things might actually end up getting a whole lot worse before they can even start to get better.

"Iridessa. Could you come here for a second, please? I have a couple of questions I'd like to ask you before you sit down with Quanta."

Of course, I could be wrong about that last part…..

"Where exactly is here Sagitarria?"

"Beg pardon?"

"I can….I can hear your voice but you're not in the same compartment as me. And since I was half-asleep when you left I'm not sure if I need to go forward or back to find you."

"Oh. You need to go forward. I'm in the bar car, which is the compartment in front of the one that is directly in front of you."

"So forward through the car in front of me and into the next one?"

"Yes. And do hurry, please. We've only got a few minutes to talk as it is and I'd like to cover as much as I can in that already limited window."

It takes me maybe a minute from the time I slip out of my chair, which I immediately miss for some stupid reason, to weave my way through the incredibly front part of the compartment I was already in, as well as the one in front of me that I think is supposed to be some kind of a cross between a high-class restaurant and a regular kitchen. Unfortunately, this is also where I end up getting sidetracked for a bit. And even though I know that I shouldn't, I end up spending the better part of the next five or so minutes of staring with absent-minded fascination at a pair of avox as they take turns decorating a very yummy looking pile of pastries.

And that's exactly what Sagitarria finds me doing when she comes storming through the door with a very upset look on her face.

"What part of 'please hurry up we don't have a lot of time to talk and we have a bunch of stuff to cover' did you not understand?"

"I'm….I'm sorry. I was on my way and I guess I…..I guess I got distracted looking at all of the pretty cakes and stuff…."

"Fantastic. I guess that means I can go ahead and add poor time management and easily distracted to your already rather impressive list of shortcomings that I need to work on in the coming days."

"What?"

"I said….You know what, don't worry about it right now Iridessa."

"Please….Call me Dessa."

"Whatever. Look, 'Dessa', when you decide that you're ready to start taking all of this seriously and get down to business, then you're more than welcome to join me in the next room."

"But I'm….I'm ready to do that now…."

"Then get your ass into the next compartment, take a seat at the bar on either side of my glass, and try not to get distracted on the way…."

* * *

 **Ives Dusket-18 (D7M)**

If there's one good thing that's come out of me being reaped, and this is admittedly a fairly weak 'good thing' for me to be holding on to but it's better than nothing. It's that I get to spend my down time watching Julie annoy the crap out of Johanna and James with a seemingly endless barrage of increasingly funny and outrageous questions and requests. And while I wouldn't go so far as to say that Julie's antics have made the last couple of hours fun or enjoyable, I'd have to be insane to even think that might be the case, they have kept things from getting overly dull or serious. At least for the most part.

Of course, Julie and her antics are also the worst part about all of this. Because as long as she keeps entertaining and distracting me, even if she is making everyone else's life miserable, I have an excuse not to start thinking or worrying about the Games and all of the terrible things I know I'm going to have to do if I want to make it out of them alive. Hell, there's a decent chance that I might even have to kill Julie at some point, which makes sitting here and getting to know her, let alone growing attached to her, a super stupid thing to be doing in the first place.

Fortunately, at least I think fortunately is the right word, it's starting to look, and more importantly sound, like Johanna and James, more so Johanna, are finally ready to stop goofing off and get down to business, whether Julie and I want them to or not….

"Ok, I'm about one stupid question away from ripping my hair out of my head."

"Oh, would you please stop acting like a drama queen Johanna.

"Is she being a little annoying right now, sure. But she's nowhere near as bad as you're making her out to be. In fact, I don't think she's done or said anything bad enough to end up in our top fifteen worst tributes."

"Oh, you do?"

"Of course I do. But I've always been a sucker for the younger tributes."

"Fantastic. Then you should have no problem with mentoring her while I take Ives. Right?"

It's a good thing I'm sitting on the other side of the room with my back to Johanna and James. Because if I wasn't, and part of me seriously wishes that were the case, there's a one-hundred percent chance that I'd be laughing at how easy it was for Johanna to walk James into the trap she just sprung. I mean come on, the look on his face when he realized what he had just done to himself had to be priceless. Oh well, I guess I'll just have to be satisfied with how I imagined his face looked, and hope that Johanna decides to talk him into another corner, preferably while I'm watching.

"I don't….I don't see why not. I have….I have a better shot at coaxing something out of her then you do. So I guess that it only makes sense for me to take her."

"Terrific. In that case, Ives and I are going to let the two of you stay here and talk shop while we find someplace else to do the same, and we'll regroup at dinner and see what we want to do from there.

"Come with me, Ives."

Johanna doesn't waste time waiting for me or James to answer her. Instead, she simply pats him on the shoulder with one hand while motioning for me to follow with the other, all while offering everyone in the room an incredibly playful and cocky grin. And after about half a second or so of that, she simply removes her hand from James's shoulder, gently but authoritatively moves him out of her way, and quickly makes her way out of the room without once looking back to see if I'm following.

Fortunately, I am following her, and after few minutes of looking, she decides to settle on a surprisingly simple and homey feeling little room just off from the main dining area that I'm told is called the 'smoking room'. And after taking a moment to make myself comfortable, during which time Johanna has a pair of avox bring in an assortment of fruity smelling booze and unidentifiable foods, she finally turns her attention to and addresses me directly for the first time.

"So, how are you holding up Ives?"

"Excuse me?"

"I asked how you were holding up. You've gone through a lot in the last few hours and it would be normal for you to be more than a little disoriented and confused by all of it."

"I'm….I'm actually doing ok all things considered. I'd obviously rather be just about anywhere else in the world right now, but if this is where I have to be then I guess things could be a lot worse."

"That's good. Because not only do I hate it when tributes spend time complaining about how unfair all of this is, but it's an incredible waste of time. And time is something neither of us, you much more so than me, can afford to waste at a time like this."

"I….I agree completely Ms. Mason."

"Oh for the love of….Please, just call me Johanna."

"I….Um….Ok….Johanna."

"Good. But before I waste any of my precious time mentoring you, I want you to make me a promise."

"...OK…?"

"I want you to promise me you won't waste any of your time or effort on your pathetic district partner Julie…."

* * *

 **Saralee Spelt-12 (D9F)**

"The first and most important thing I want both of you to understand is that you're not alone in this. I know that it might feel like you are, and there are going to be times over the next few days where it's even going to seem like you are, but you aren't.

"You'll have Kimma, me, Hyperia, and even each other to lean on if you need it. So please, don't be afraid to take advantage of what little support and comfort you have if you need it."

I really wish Oatis would stop trying to make all of this seem like it's not as bad as it really is. I do have to give him credit for sticking to his guns on this, even if he has been going on and on about it for the better part of the last hour with no signs of slowing down, but he really is wasting his time at this point. Because no matter how hard he tries, I'm not going to buy into any of this, and Quillis stopped paying attention five or so seconds into his speech.

"So, do either of you have any questions before I go and see if Kimma is feeling well enough to come out and help so we break off into pairs and start with the more personal, one-on-one stuff?"

"Yeah, I got a question."

"Great. Go ahead Quillis?"

"Is um….Is that food on the cart they brought in a while back for the important people on the train or can anyone who wants some have it?"

"Is that….Is that really the only question you have?"

"It sure is. I mean, I didn't get the chance to eat before the reaping, so as I'm sure you can imagine I'm kind of hungry. And I'm sure that Saralee, who is far too polite and quiet to speak up, is in the same boat as me."

I'm not sure what's funnier, the look of shocked confusion and defeat on Oatis's face, or the fact that Quillis, who I've looked at maybe three or four times since we got on the train and haven't talked too, realized that I was hungry before I did. Although, he might have seen me lick my lips, or heard my stomach growling, which I've been doing my best to ignore, when they first rolled the food carts into the room a while back, and put two and two together.

"Do...Do you have any questions Saralee?"

"I….I um….Well….I guess the only question I have is….Is it?"

"Is it what dear?"

"Is the food on the cart for everyone or do they have a separate cart for Quillis and me?"

"The food on the cart is for anyone who wants it. So if the two of you are hungry you're more than welcome to take some. But I'd appreciate it if you'd wait until we're done with this to…."

Neither of us waits for Oatis to finish before jumping out of our seats and racing towards the cart. And by the time he finally realizes that neither of us is still sitting in the chairs across from him, I've already filled my first plate full of snacks and have started in on a second.

"Ok then, I guess we're done with the introductory phase of things. So I guess….I guess I'll go ahead and leave you two alone for a minute and go see if Kimma is feeling well enough to come out and help…."

I don't end up responding to Oatis or anything that he says before leaving the room. And judging by the juggling job Quillis is currently engaged in as he tries to hold on to three separate plates of food while pouring himself a drink, I highly doubt that he did either. And while the logical part of me is ready to kick the crap out of myself for being so disrespectful towards one of the two people in the whole world that can help me in the Capitol, the hungry part of me is much more interested in stuffing my face and worrying about stuff like that later.

"You want a drink too kiddo?"

"Are you….Are you talking to me Quillis?"

"You see anyone else in here with us?"

"Well….No…."

"Then let's assume I was talking to you."

"I um….Sure. What is it?"

"I think it's vodka, but I'm not a hundred percent sure."

"What's that?"

"It's a type of alcohol. And while It's not one that I'd normally drink, it's the only one on the cart that smells halfway decent. So, you want some?"

"I've never….I've never had any before."

"Well, there's a first time for everything. Right?"

"I um….Sure. Why not."

"That's the spirit, Sara. You don't mind if I call you Sara, do you? Because Saralee is a bit of a mouthful."

"Not….Not really."

"Good."

He slides me a half-filled glass with a couple of ice cubes in it and motions for me to drink up. And after a couple of seconds of hesitation, I do. And it takes everything I have to force the awful tasting liquid down my throat instead of spitting it all over the room.

"That was….That was awful. Do people really drink this stuff?"

"It's an acquired taste I guess."

I can't for the life of me imagine anyone ever actually 'acquiring' a taste for this stuff. But I guess that some people in the world, especially the crazies in the Capitol, might just be strange enough to do so. Especially if they drink it enough.

"Don't let him fool you with that line Saralee. No one ever 'acquires' a taste for vodka. You're either born without a sense of taste and like it, or you have one and you don't…."

I'm not normally a very jumpy or easily startled type of person. But that doesn't stop me from yelping softly but very noticeably in surprise at the sound of Kimma's voice as she and Oatis quietly slip back into the room with amused but very business-like looks plastered on both of their faces. And after a few minutes of polite conversation, most of which ends up being between Kimma and Quillis, I find myself gathering up my small hoard of snacks as Kimma waits patiently for me to finish so we can go find a quiet place to start planning for my upcoming visit to the arena….

* * *

 **Euonymus Flax-18 (D11M)**

"There's got to be something about you that I can market to sponsors Euni. I know that you may not think so, but I can assure you that it's true."

"I wish that was true Violetta. I really do. But wishing that something was true, and it actually being true, are two very different things."

"That's a good line Euni, and I'm sure that a lot of other people out there who might even buy it. Unfortunately for you, I'm not one of them.

"Don't get me wrong, you do an excellent job of playing up that whole, 'there's nothing interesting or truly notable about me,' card a hell of a lot better than most tributes could ever hope to. But I've spent far too much time working with kids like you, who for whatever reason don't seem to want to share their life story with the crowd, to be fooled by it."

I honestly don't know what Violetta is expecting me to say here. I mean, it's obvious she's not going to let this matter drop, unless I push back and force her to do so, which is an idea that I'm not even a little bit comfortable with, so it's pretty obvious that I'm going to have to give her something. The only problem is, I honestly don't want to share anything about myself with her.

Because even though she is right about there being more to me then I'm letting on, most of what I'm holding back is extremely private and personal in nature. I mean, I'm not going to sit down and spill my guts to her, or anyone else for that matter, about what happened with my dad and brother. Which means the only other option I have is to tell her about my books and stuff.

"Is everything ok Euni?

"I know I just threw a lot at you in a very short period of time, but I didn't want to waste any more time pussy-footing around on this than we already have."

"Oh, I'm fine Violetta. I was just trying to come up with a response to your question that was direct enough to give you something useful to work with while still being vague enough not to fully give away one of the few secrets about myself and my past that I have."

"I see. And is that your way of saying you came up with something good or that you are trying to stall for time because you're still searching for an answer."

"I actually do have an answer. It's not a very good or overly interesting and informative one, but it is an answer."

"OK then. Go ahead and let me hear what you've got."

"Well, the truth is, I've always been sort of fascinated with agriculture."

"Agriculture?"

"Yeah. I've always enjoyed studying the crops we grow in the District and looking for ways to make the processes we use more efficient and productive. In fact, I've spent the better part of the last six years looking for ways to increase crop yield and maximize growing space so that we can get more usable food out of our yearly harvests."

"That's….That's fantastic Euni."

"I beg your pardon?"

"I said that was fantastic. Because while this may come as a surprise to you, there is actually a very real and exploitable niche group of sponsors that love supporting tributes that are trying to make Panem a better and more efficient place to live."

"There….There are?!"

"Of course. And while it may not be a very large or overly wealthy group, it's one that no one ever seems interested in tapping into. So there really shouldn't be much, if any, competition standing in the way of you securing their support in the arena."

I can't….I can't believe what I'm hearing. I mean, I always just sort of assumed that something like my interest in better, more efficient agricultural practices would be nothing more than a novelty that I could talk about to fill time that would be quickly set aside and forgotten by the majority of people. And I damn sure never dreamed, not in a million years, that it would be something I could use to win over honest to god sponsor support.

"Are you….Are you being serious Violetta or are you just trying to make me feel better for being as boring as I told you I was."

"I'm being serious Euni….. Ok, look.

"One of the biggest, most damning mistakes a new tribute can make is assuming that you have to fit a specific mold in order to get sponsor support. That's why you always see a crapload of little liars running out on stage and spewing cliché nonsense like, 'I have a family back at home that will never make it through the winter if I don't survive the arena. Or, 'I made a stupid, childish mistake at one point in my life and I have to win so I can go back and fix what I did'. Or my personal favorite, 'I have to win because I have the most loving and supportive boyfriend slash girlfriend waiting for me to come back so we can get married and start the family we've always dreamed of starting'."

"Are you….Are you saying those a bad reasons to want to win?"

"Of course not. I'm just saying that they're not very original and actually make it harder for the tributes that use them to stand out as individuals.

"But you….You're not going to have any problem standing out with this. And while most of your competition is spewing some variation of those same three cliché lines in an effort to win the support of the same pool of sponsors as everyone else. You'll be cornering the market on a largely ignored and untapped well of supporters that'll belong to you and you alone."

"And if I was interested in doing so. How exactly would I go about it?"

"My dear, I was beginning to think you were never going to ask that…."

* * *

 **Nira Valli-18 (D5F)**

"I really wish you would at least pretend that you're taking this seriously. I mean, I get that you probably don't want to talk about any of this right now, but it is kind of important nonetheless."

"According to who Nikolai?"

"According to me Nira. You know, the guy whose job it is to make sure you're as prepared as you can possibly be for the life or death gauntlet you're about to be run through."

"And how is telling you about all of the stupid and ridiculous things I've done in my life supposed to help with that Nikolai?

"I mean seriously, how is you knowing something like when I lost my first tooth, or how old I was when I first kissed a boy supposed to help keep me alive in the arena? And more importantly, why do you even care if I make it out or not?"

"Because you're my tribute Nira. And whether you like it or not, caring about stuff like that is my freaking job!"

"No, your freaking job, as you so elegantly put it, it to help make me more presentable and supportable to those monsters in the Capitol. Your job is to help me cook up some crazy reason for why I'm willing to fight, and quite possibly die, for the 'glory' of Panem.

"And I hate to be the one to break this to you, especially since I don't feel like I should have too since I've been plenty clear as it is, but I'm not going to play along.

"I'm not going to march myself into the Capitol and pretend that anything about what I'm being FORCED to do is ok with me."

Oh shit. Why did I….Why did I have to say that like I did? I mean, I meant every word of it, but I definitely didn't mean for it to come exploding out in such a mean and accusatory way.

"I'm not going to FORCE you to do anything Nira. In fact, I'm not even going to try. All I'm going to do is offer you a helping hand and try to guide you towards a course of action that gives you the best chance of making it out of the arena alive.

"Because at the end of the day, that's my REAL JOB, Nira. To do anything and everything I possibly can to give my tributes a fighting chance to make it out of the arena alive. I could care less about things like presentation and marketability, because Atlas and your stylist are the ones that are supposed to worry about that. The only thing I care about, the only thing in the world when I'm on the clock like this, is making sure my tributes have a fighting chance.

"Now, with that being said, if you don't want my help that's fine. I'm more than willing to leave you to your own devices and spend what little time I have working with Cliff. All you have to do is tell me to leave and I'll walk away right now. But if you do, don't expect me to come back later and help you if you decide to change your mind."

"I don't….I don't want you to go, Nikolai. And I do…..I do want your help."

"Then you'll have it. As long as you promise to do what I say when I say it."

"As long as you…..As long as you don't ask me to change who I am as a person, or pretend to be someone or something that I'm not, then you have a deal.

"Because as I'm sure you've probably gathered by now, I would rather die in the bloodbath as the person I am and with my honor intact, then survive this whole ugly mess by turning myself into the monster the Capitol wants me to be…."

"Ok. But you do realize that this makes my already difficult job damn near impossible. At least when it comes to you. Right?"

"I do. But that's...That's just the way it's going to have to be. Because like I said..."

"You would rather die as you then survive by turning yourself into the kind of child-killing monster the Capitol wants you to be...

"Ok. Then I think it's time for us to stop talking and get to work..."

* * *

 **A/N: Hello everyone, I really don't have a lot to say in this, outside of I'm thrilled that I've now updated 3 times in the span of a month when it took me almost 2 months to get a single update out at one point, so this should be a short and sweet note.**

 **Also, this has come up a bit recently so I'm going to touch on it real quick. I'm not going to punish tributes if their submitters don't comment on the story. I do enjoy getting and reading all of your comments, it's one of the things that makes this stuff fun, but I also understand that real life takes precedence, so don't worry about commenting if you're busy, just keep reading and comment when and if you can :)**

 **Also, I'm always open to constructive criticism and suggestions on how to write the story, or even just your individual tributes, better. So if you have a suggestion, concern, or even a problem, please feel free to drop me a PM and let me know and I'll do my best to resolve it. Provided you're not looking for a complete personality 180 at the 11th hour :)**

 **Ok, I think that's everything, :D so I'm going to go ahead and wrap this up by saying that I look forward to seeing all of your happy and smiling faces at the next update… :D**


	20. Hard Truths(Train Ride 2)

**Bacchus Jaguar-18 (D2M)**

"So, Bacchus, if you only had one chance to impress the other members of the career alliance, what skill or ability would you show them? What is the one thing about you, Mr. Bacchus Jaguar, that would make you an asset to the career alliance? What is it that makes a fat little shit with glasses like you, worthy of being offered a place in what is by far the single most prestigious and storied alliance in Hunger Games history?"

"I'm not….I'm not sure what you mean by earn a spot in the alliance ma'am.

"I mean, it may be a wee bit presumptuous on my part, but I just sort of assumed that I already had a spot in the alliance locked down. You know, since I'm a volunteer from a career district and what not."

"And if this was a normal year, with Games that were being conducted under more normal and controlled circumstances, you'd be right.

"But seeing as the volunteering moratorium was lifted the night before the reaping, which means that none of the academy instructors had any input on or control over who decided to volunteer, it's not a good idea for you to assume that your inclusion is a foregone conclusion."

"You're not….You're not being serious right now, are you?

"I mean, the thought that any career district volunteer, let alone one that comes from District Two, is batshit insane.

"Careers wouldn't even be a thing if it wasn't for District Two. And you can be damn sure there wouldn't be a Career Alliance without us either."

"All of that is true Bacchus. And exactly none of the facts you just listed, not a single, solitary one, actually matters.

"Because I hate to break this to you, I really do, but you don't have the clout, let alone the look, to force your way into the alliance like most of the tributes you're referring too did."

"So you're saying my background isn't going to stop me from having to jump through hoops to appease a bunch of kids that don't actually deserve to be judging me?"

"Unfortunately, yes. That's exactly what I'm saying."

"And what about Tartarus? Is he going to have to jump through all of these stupid hoops to 'prove' himself worthy of joining to the other members of the alliance?"

"Her. Bacchus. The word you're looking for is her, not him. And in the future, please remember to refer to her as Elysium, which is her given name, not Tartarus.

"I understand that she's made it abundantly clear to you that she would like you to call her Tartarus and to use masculine pronouns when talking about her, but I'm going to tell you now, that is the stupidest thing you could do."

"And why is that?"

"Aside from the fact that she's a disgusting freak of nature that has zero chance of being invited to join the career alliance?"

"Um….Yes...?"

"Because the only thing you playing into her fantasy, the one where her simply saying she's a boy will make her one, can possibly do for you, is make you look stupid for doing so, or weak for not having the balls to stand up and correct her.

"Either of which, when coupled with your very obvious weight and appearance issues, would give the other members of the alliance more than enough justification to cast you out without a second thought."

Wow, I guess she's really not going to pull any punches with me on this stuff. I mean, she did promise me that would be the case, that she would always tell me what I needed to hear regardless of whether I wanted to hear it. But I didn't really take that promise seriously until now.

"In fact, it's probably a good idea to distance yourself from her as much as humanly possible. It might even be a good idea for you to promise the rest of Panem you'll remove the stain she's made on District Two and the rest of Panem by personally killing her in the bloodbath.

"But we can talk about stuff like that later. Right now, I'm still waiting for you to give me an answer to my original question…."

You know, there was a small part of me that was hoping, obviously in vain, that if we spent enough time talking about other stuff, like Elysium, that Julia would forget she ever asked me that question. I mean, I guess that I should have known better, if only because there's no way in hell I could get that lucky given the current circumstances, but that didn't stop me from doing so all the same.

Well, I guess I'd better hurry up and give her an answer before she loses what little patience she has with me on this….

"I guess….I guess the one thing I could bring to the career alliance that no one else could, is my….Is my brain!"

"Your brain?"

"Yeah, my brain.

"I mean, not only am I a super quick study and learner, but I'm incredibly observant and detail oriented. That makes me an excellent planner, and every alliance, even one that's predicated on combat like the careers, needs someone that's capable of planning their next move while also keeping everything else organized."

"That's a good start, but there are probably going to be plenty of tributes that can say the same. What makes you a better pick than someone from Three or Five?"

"The fact that my smarts wouldn't be the only thing I'd bring to the table. I'd also bring above average combat skills to the table, which isn't something an outer district genius can say.

"I mean, I might not be the one you'd pick for one on one combat, but I'm definitely capable of holding my own, and even beating, the majority of the outer district tributes the alliance will be hunting in the arena."

"And are you willing to back that statement up if you're challenged to do so? Because if you are, you should have no problem convincing the other careers you're worthy of being a member of the alliance…."

* * *

 **Pearl Caspian-16 (D4F)**

"Do you….Do you actually want to win the Hunger Games Pearl? Like, in your heart of hearts, is that truly what you want?"

"What kind of stupid question is that? Of course, I want to win the Hunger Games, Allure. Winning the Games is the….is the only thing I've ever wanted."

"Then you need to be more than just the overly confident and sexy little girl from District Four Pearl. You need to be more than just the sexy little thing with blue-eyes, blond hair, and alluring seductive tan skin Pearl."

"For your information, Allure, I am more than that. Sure some people consider me sexy, but there's really nothing wrong with that as far as I'm concerned. And if you knew anything about me, anything at all, or were even marginally as good at reading people as you seem to think you are, then you would know that."

"Well, I sure as hell can't learn anything about you if you refuse to talk to me. I mean come on Pearl, we've been talking to each other for what, the last two, two and a half hours?"

"Something like that."

"Great. And in that time period, I've gotten a grand total of three, count them three, answers out of you that were longer than two or three words. And two of those have come in the last minute.

"And seeing as my only other insight into you and your personality comes from your five or so minute post reaping interview with Inala, I'm not sure how you expect me to be able to decipher who you truly are as a person.

"Seriously Pearl, the majority of what I know about you is based almost entirely on your appearance and what little personality I've been able to extrapolate from your half-hearted answers to my questions, your post volunteering interview, and a few hours worth of facial expressions and body language.

"And the only thing any of that tells me is that you're pretty, you're determined, and you're so confident in yourself that you're almost arrogant."

I didn't realize how difficult I was making this for Allure. I mean, it's kind of her job to be able to find things out about tributes, even if they don't really want to open up and share, so I'm not sure this little rough patch is nearly as big of a problem as she's making it out to be. But even so, I guess it wouldn't kill me to try to open up a bit more so that she can get to know the real me a bit better. Provided she's willing to meet me halfway and show me the same level of respect and openness she's expecting me to give her.

"Look I think….I think maybe we got off on the wrong foot Allure. I'm just….I'm just not very good at opening up to people and sharing stuff about myself. I never have been, especially not with people I don't really know all that well or trust."

"And I understand that Pearl, I really do. I was the same way when I was a tribute, and as surprising as this may be for you to hear, so was Joyce. So I can honestly understand and relate to what you're going through and why you feel the way you do.

"But if you can't find a way to overcome your internal problems and open up, at least to me, then there's no way I can help you."

"But why should….Why should my being able to open up to you really be that big of a problem though? And more importantly, how much of what I share with you are you planning on sharing with people like sponsors and such?"

"Well, the answer to your second question is pretty simple because that it's completely up to you.

"If you tell me something that I think I can use to get you, sponsors, then I'll let you know, and if you tell me not to mention it to anyone, then I'll drop the subject and move on. I can't promise that I won't be disappointed, or that I might not try and talk you out of keeping it a secret a time or two, but I will respect your wishes if you're truly against something being shared."

"Ok. And the answer to my first question is?"

I can tell by the pained look on her face that Allure was hoping I'd forget that she only answered one of my questions. And to be honest, there was a second or two there where I was considering pretending that I did. But I can't afford to do that, not with something as important as this is anyway.

"The answer to your first question, at least the full answer, is a little more intricate and involved then we really have time for. But the short answer is, the more I know about you, or the more you're willing to open up to and share with me, the better your chances of survival become.

"I mean, I know there are going to be things about you that you don't want to or won't share with me because you don't like or trust me enough to do so, and that's fine. Because at the end of the day, whether or not you trust or like me is totally irrelevant. And at the end of the day, my only real concern isn't whether or not you like or trust me, it's finding a way to line up the sponsors necessary to help you make it out of the arena alive.

"Now the easier you can make that on my the better. But if you decide that you want to hold back entirely and leave me with just the fact that you're the incredibly confident and ridiculously sexy, at least by sixteen-year-old standards, female career from District Four. Then I'll do everything I can to sell that to as many sponsors as I can."

I don't get this. I mean, it seems like every time Allure opens her mouth, she says something that totally contradicts something else that she said earlier. And while I'm willing to admit that there was a period towards the beginning of all this that I wasn't actually paying all that much attention to what she was saying to me, I know for a fact that everything she just said contradicted damn near the entire first half of our most recent conversation.

"OK, now I'm confused.

"Didn't you just get done saying that I needed to be more than just a confident girl with a pretty face if I wanted to win?"

"I did."

"And now you're saying that being sexy and confident might actually be enough to sell me on if you can find the right way to spin it?"

"I am."

"So which is it? Is being confident and sexy enough for me to get by on or do I need to be a deeper and more complex person?"

"This is what I was talking about before, with the whole much more complicated and complex thing that we really don't have enough time to get into."

"Well, it looks like we're going to have to get into it whether we have time for it or not. So I guess now is as good a time as any Allure."

"Fair enough. But before we get started, I'd like to ask you a question. If you don't mind."

What the hell is she trying to pull now?

"Ok, what is it?"

"Do YOU think that being sexy and confident is enough for YOU to get by on?"

* * *

 **Axel Bishop-16 (D6M)**

I don't know how in the world Zefram, or really anyone for that matter, can honestly expect me to process all of the crap he's been throwing at me. I mean seriously, outside of the first fifteen or so minutes I was on the train, when Zefram was too busy talking to Zenobia and getting himself settled in his room to pay attention to me, he's been throwing stuff at me almost nonstop. Which wouldn't be all that big of a deal, or maybe the words I'm looking for here are, 'which is bad enough on its own', I'm honestly so rattled right now that I'm not sure which of those it is, if he wasn't talking a thousand miles a second on top of that.

"So, do you have any questions, comments, or concerns about everything I just covered?"

I um….I don't know where in the world I'm even supposed to start with a question like that. I mean, I have questions about almost everything, and I do mean everything, that he just spent the better part of two and a half hours covering.

"Should I assume that your silence, not to mention the look on your face, means you have a lot of questions? Or is it supposed to to be your, 'I understand everything you just said perfectly sir,' look?"

"I um….I do have some questions. But I'm not….I'm just not sure where I should ask you to start. Sorry."

"It's not a problem Axel. I mean, I just threw a hell of a lot of information at you very quickly and in an incredibly small period of time. But that's because I'm the only living mentor in our district. Which means that I only get, at best, half as much time with each of my tributes as a mentor with one tribute gets, while still having the same amount of stuff to go over with them."

"I remember you telling me and Reid that earlier. Right before you asked me to come and talk to you so Reid could go change out of her Reaping clothes and take a quick nap."

"That's good. Do you also remember me telling you that if you ever had questions about anything I said to stop me right there and ask them instead of waiting around for God knows how long and then asking them at the end?"

"I do."

"Then why didn't you stop me, Axel? Why did you wait until you were so completely and utterly lost in the sauce, which makes it almost impossible for me to actually help you, to let me know that you had some questions?"

"Well, for starters, you were talking so fast that it took me forever to actually realize when you switched from one subject to another. Of course, by the time I realized you had switched subjects I had to decide between asking about the previous one or trying to catch up on the one you're on now.

"And as embarrassed as I am to admit this, especially since I now realize just how stupid a decision it really was, I decided to try to catch up instead of stopping you and asking a question.

"Unfortunately, the harder I tried to catch up, the less I ended up understanding. And after a while, things started to get all messed up and jumbled together…."

"Axel, it's ok, it really is. You're not the first tribute of mine this has happened to and I can assure you that you won't be the last.

"I mean, I know that I have a tendency to talk fast, it's something I started doing AFTER I realized that talking slowly was making it hard for me to give equal attention to both of my tributes. I also know that, more often than not, I'm the only one that actually knows what it is I'm saying, and even then that's only because I'm the one that's actually saying it."

"I didn't….I didn't mean to say that it was your…."

"Yes, yes you did. And like I said earlier, that's completely fine. But in the future, I WANT, no I NEED, I need you to make sure that you stop me and force me to go back over something if you need me to.

"I want to make sure that I give you every opportunity that I possibly can to not only survive the Games, but thrive in them, Axel. And if I have to slow myself down and go over things two or three times to make sure you understand it, then that's what I'll do."

"I….I appreciate that Zefram, I really do."

"Don't mention it, kid.

"So, we have something like fifteen or twenty minutes before dinner. Would you like to use this time to go back over something? Or would you like to spend it trying to un-jumble some of the stuff we've already covered to see if you understood and retained more than you thought you did?"

I don't….I don't know how I'm supposed to answer that. I mean, I know that it would probably be in my best interest to go back over some of the simpler stuff now, while anything I might have picked up is still relatively fresh in my mind. But for some reason I really, and in this case, I do mean really, don't want to.

But I know I have to. I mean, I'm not an incredibly smart person to begin with, believe me I know. And while I'm not stupid by any means, it does take me longer to pick up certain things then it does most people. Which means that I really can't afford to waste an opportunity to reinforce anything that I might have already learned.

And so, as much as I might not want to, I force myself to swallow my objections and offer up a small nod before giving Zefram the verbal answer I'm sure he wants.

"I think it would be a good idea to go back over what little we can while we have the time. Don't you?"

"I do. And if it's ok with you, I'd like to start with the idea I floated about you trying to latch on with the Career Alliance as hired muscle…."

* * *

 **Annalee Tack-15 (D8F)**

Considering how bad today started out, I'm a little surprised that I'm in such a good mood right now. I mean, it would have been super easy for me to just withdraw back into my shell and then sit here and sulk about what just happened. And if I had, I don't think anyone in the world would have blamed me for doing so either. But for some super odd, and slightly unsettling, reason, I just couldn't bring myself to act like that.

Instead, much to my surprise, I sat right down next to Kylon, who insists that I call him Kyle, and started talking to him. And after a few minutes of talking about things like our friends, our families, and the lives we left behind in Six, our mentor Thomas slides in and regale, at least I think that's the word I'm looking for, the two of us with stories of his past.

Heck, we even managed to convince our escort Flux to join in and tell us a bit about HIS past. Of course, we had to wait until we were called in for dinner to do so, and even then I'm pretty sure he only joined in because he really didn't have a choice. But that really doesn't matter either way.

Of course, it's also the call to dinner that seems to put an end to story time, with the exception of what little Flux told us, and the beginning of our real training. And by the time Kyle and I have finished stuffing our faces full of fried chicken and macaroni and cheese, which might be the two best things I've ever eaten in my entire life, Thomas has decided it's time to stop playing around and start being serious. And even though I'd really rather talk and think about almost anything else in the entire world, I force myself to lean in and listen as closely as I possibly can. After quickly refilling my now empty glass of pear juice that is.

"So, I know the two of you probably haven't given this a lot of thought yet, but have you considered the idea of teaming up in the arena?

"Not only do the two of you seem to have a lot in common, which isn't as rare as you might think but still doesn't happen nearly as often as it should, but you also seem to genuinely like each other. And as much as this may surprise you to hear, liking, if not trusting, your partners and allies is going to be a pretty big deal once you get into the arena."

I hate to admit this, but I honestly haven't even thought about how I'm going to handle the tribute parade, and that's happening TOMORROW. So at this point, I have no idea, like seriously none, if I want allies at all, never mind whether I'd like to ally with Kyle. OK, that's not exactly true, I do know that I want allies in the arena, I'd have to be stupid not to. But I still don't know what kind of allies I want or if Kyle will end up being one of them.

Heck, I don't even know if he would be interested in allying with me. I mean, just because we seemed to hit it off here on the train, doesn't mean we'd be able to do the same thing in the arena. And it definitely doesn't mean that we're all of the sudden friends or anything.

Of course, I guess it wouldn't hurt me to ask him either. Because even if he ends up saying no, which I totally expect to be the answer he gives, it will show Thomas that I'm willing to taking his advice.

"To be honest Thomas, I really haven't even tried to think that far ahead yet. I mean, I know I should, believe me, I do. But knowing I need to do something, and actually doing it, are two completely different things."

"I understand that Annalee. That's why I asked the question in the first place. To make sure that both of you were focused on the Games. I asked it because I had to be sure that you were both mentally and emotionally focused on what lies ahead, instead of what you had to leave behind.

"Does that….Does that make sense to you?"

"Of course it does. But to be fair, I've never been one to dwell too much on things I can't change or that I have no real control over. Like I said earlier, I learned pretty early in life that some things just aren't worth wasting your time worrying about, and things you can't change are right at the tippy top of that list."

"That's an excellent way of looking at things Annalee. And a remarkably mature one considering just how young you really are.

"But what about you Kylon? You've been surprisingly quiet for the last few minutes, especially since you were talking everyone's ear off just a few moments earlier."

"What about me?"

"What do you think about being allies with Annalee? And more importantly, are you in the right place emotionally and mentally right now?"

Well, this is it. The moment of truth. In the next couple of seconds, I'll finally find out if Kyle is interested in being my ally, or if my concerns that he'd rather hold out and look for someone older and more mature, more like him, to team up with.

At least I didn't have to ask him if he wanted to be my ally myself. That's kind of a win I guess….

"Well, for starters, I'm not going to answer the second question until I see how everyone responds to my first answer. Which if I'm being honest with everyone, is that I actually kind of like the idea of teaming up with Annalee."

"You what?!"

"I said I liked the idea. Does that...Does that really surprise you?"

"A little, yeah."

"Well, it shouldn't."

"But why….Why not?"

"Aside from the fact that I'd be lucky to have you as an ally because you're easily ten times smarter, more determined, more driven, and more practical than I could ever hope to be?"

"I uh….I don't know what to say to that Kyle.

"I mean, my gut is telling me to turn you down because I have no real reason to trust you, and then put as much distance between you and me as I possibly can. But my brain is telling me that you have no real reason to lie to me, at least not right now, which means that it's ok to trust you a little as long as I don't let myself get to attached."

"But which are you going to trust? Your brain, which makes us partners for the next little while? Or your gut, which makes us, at best, the kind of amicable foes that are going to be hoping and praying they don't run into one another in the arena?"

That's the big question, isn't it? I mean, I know better than to mistrust my gut in situations like this, especially since I have so much to lose if it ends up being right and not a lot to gain by it being wrong. But my brain has never, and I do mean never, steered me wrong in this type of situation before either. And in situations like this, where my gut is pulling me one way and my brain another, I tend to fall back on my heart to provide the tiebreaker.

And as much as I hate to admit it, my heart has been constantly pulling me in one and only one direction this entire time.

"It makes us partners Kyle. At least for the time being….."

* * *

 **Piper Anneliese Lark-16 (D10F)**

"I just think you will end up getting more out of my training and advice if you actually listen and take it to heart, instead of pretending to listen and then just passively dismissing it out of hand."

"That's the thing, Wren, I am listening and I'm not just dismissing any of this all willy-nilly or anything. If I dismiss it, you should take it as a hint that I've already thoroughly thought about your 'suggestion' and then dismissed it because I either think it's bad or that it simply won't work.

"I know I'm not an expert or anything Wren, but I do know myself well enough to know when something isn't going to work for me."

"How do you know that though Piper? You haven't even tried any of them yet?"

"I know because they're all simple little cookie-cutter, one size fits all ideas, Wren. You worked so hard to come up with ideas that you could quickly and easily slap on just about any kind of tribute you might end up mentoring, and that's exactly what you got. And as a result, all of your ideas suck.

"I'm sorry if that comes off sounding mean or disrespectful, because I honestly didn't mean for it to. But seeing as it's my life on the line, I'm not going to feel sorry about it either."

Ok, that came out sounding a hell of a lot more confrontational and matter of fact then it probably needed to. I mean, I obviously meant every word of what I said. But I'm almost positive there was a much less abrasive way for me to have said it.

Then again, my dad did teach me to be straightforward and honest with people at all times. Especially when I'm telling them something they might not like or want to hear me say. And he damn sure wouldn't approve of me even thinking about mincing words with my mentor, even if not doing it could adversely affect my already slim chances of making it out of this mess alive. So I'm not really sure if I should feel as bad about what I said as the look on Wren's face is making me feel.

Of course, my dad isn't the one that has to go through this crap, I am. It's not his life that's on the line, it's mine. And at this point, with all of that being said, I really don't think I can afford to put all that much stock into how I think he might handle a given situation. Or at the very least any of the multitude of situations I might find myself in that I can't resolve by standing firm, talking tough, and sticking to my guns…

Which I guess means that I might want to at least try to apologize to Wren, even if both of us know it's total crap.

"Look, Wren, there was probably a more tactful and articulate way for me to word that."

"It's fine Piper."

"It is?"

"Of course it is. I mean, I'm a big enough girl to take criticism like that Piper. And as long as your criticism is specific and warranted, which as much as I might hate to admit this most certainly was, I don't have a problem with it.

"In fact, I want you to step up and speak your mind, Piper. If you have questions, lay them on me. If you have comments or concerns, don't be afraid to bring them up with me. Because at the end of the day, it really is your life that's on the line, not mine.

"I've already had my turn in that hell hole and I have no intention of ever going back. But there's any way I can use what I learned in my Games to help you do the same, then I want to make sure that I do. But that can only happen if you tell me what you need or want me to share and what you don't."

Ok, now I'm definitely confused. I mean, I thought I was confused earlier, and to be fair, there's a pretty good chance that I was. But after sitting here while Wren basically spilled her guts out all over the floor, which makes me super uncomfortable for all the super obvious reasons, as well as a few not so obvious ones, while also somehow agreeing with everything I said before. I know for a fact that I'm lost in the sauce now. Which, as hard as this is for me to admit, even if it is just to myself, might not actually be a bad thing.

I mean, it's obviously not a good thing, and it's almost impossible for me to imagine a scenario where it ever would be, but it really doesn't feel like a bad thing either. Not if I can use it to help the two of us get us past this little bump in the road anyway. I mean, Wren and I have already wasted enough time with this crap as it is. And I'd love to go over a few more things with her BEFORE Sparkle decides it's time to see if she can browbeat me into going to bed like she did Mazeem.

So that's exactly what I'm going to do. And what's more, I'm going to do it the only way I know how. By messing with the bull. Figuratively speaking of course.

"So, Wren, are you ready to help me come up with a plan of attack that isn't total crap? Or am I going to have to do it all by myself?"

"Of course I'm going to help you, Piper. You may be a pain in the ass, but you're my pain in the ass.

"And as long YOU'RE actually willing to help out instead of just sitting there and telling me how shitty MY ideas are, I'd be more than happy to help however I can."

"Good. Because we have a lot of work to do and a super short amount of time to get it done."

"Hey Piper, that's supposed to be my line…"

* * *

 **Ash Colton-18 (D12M)**

"Would you please stop bringing that up Onyx? Come on, I've told you at least half a hundred times already that I'm not going to open up about my brother. And I'm damn sure, not interested in trying to exploit what he did as part of some half-assed redemption angle. So please, stop trying to get me to agree to one!"

"For the last time Ash that's not what I'm trying to do. I mean, if you don't want to talk about Dominic then I'm not going to force you too. All I'm trying to do is help prepare you for how refusing to talk about him is going to go over with Lanteia when she asks you about him during your interview."

"What's there to get ready for though Onyx? If she asks me those questions…."

"It's not a question of if Ash, but when. She is going to ask you about him and there's nothing you can do to stop that."

"Fine then. WHEN she asks me about him, I'll tell her the same thing I told Valora during the Reaping and that I've been telling you for the last few hours. I'm sorry Lanteia, but I'm really not interested in talking about my brother or what happened during his Games. Next question please."

"And if your lucky, like out of this world stupid lucky, that answer will buy you a whole minute of time before she jumps back in and starts pestering you to answer her dam questions.

"Her job is to force you to either open up and share with her, or break down about something. And since you went out of your way during the Reaping to make it abundantly clear that your brother is a sore spot for you, she's going to latch onto it and milk it for everything it's worth.

"She'll find out every little thing she can about him, his life, and what he did during his Games, and she'll slam you with it."

"Which makes this what Onyx? Practice for how to deal with an annoying person that refuses to drop a subject no matter how many time you tell them to?"

"Kind of.

"I mean, it's obvious you have anger issues, and the last thing any tribute can afford to do is lose their cool with Lanteia during their interview. Especially if they want to live long enough to see their family again instead of coming home to them in a fucking box."

"But that's the part you don't seem to be getting Onyx, I'm going to end up coming home in that box either way. So at the end of the day, I really couldn't care less how my interview with Lanteia ends up going. Because as far as I'm concerned, I'm already dead."

I think I might have caught Onyx a little off guard with my last statement. And considering how little he knows about me and my background at this point I honestly can't say that I blame him for being confused. I mean, I'm sure he's probably pieced together some of what I'm trying not to talk about already, because he's obviously smart enough to have picked up on some, if not all, of the hints I've been dropping. But I seriously doubt he's got the full picture yet, let alone that he actually understands just how serious all of the things in my past really are.

And even though part of me knows that I really should share some of this with Onyx, I can't seem to bring myself to do so. Because even though I know that he's just trying to do his job, which is to do everything he can to help me make it out of this mess alive, I still don't really trust him. And if I'm being totally honest with myself, that's the biggest reason I'm acting the way I am.

The fact that I know full well that the Capitol would never, not in a million years, let someone with my background and track record win their precious Hunger Games just gives me a built-in excuse to fall back on.

"Look, Onyx, I'm exhausted and it's obvious that we're not really getting anywhere with this either. So, if it's ok with you, I'm going to go ahead and hit the sack so I can have the energy and restraint necessary to spend tomorrow being paraded around like a war trophy."

I don't know why I felt the need to throw the if it's ok with you part in there, because I know full well I have no intention of actually waiting for him to answer. Let alone sitting back down and continuing to talk if he says it's not. And sure enough, it takes me all of a fraction of a second from the second I stop talking to slide off my bar stool and casually stroll out of the room without ever giving Onyx a chance to say a word...

* * *

 **A/N: 2 down and 2 to go :) I hope everyone is still enjoying the story and is as excited as I am not only for what lies ahead for all of these amazing tributes, but also for the fact that I'm finally updating at a decent speed :D**

 **Also, this update kind of got away from me a bit as far as length is concerned, so I apologize in advance if it's a little on the long side :D**

 **And with that I'll bid you all a found ado and look forward to seeing all of your wonderful faces back here soon for Train Ride 3!**


	21. No Rest for the Wicked(Train Ride 3)

**Isabelle Price-18 (D1F)**

I'm starting to wish I had just swallowed my pride and told my mom and step-dad, not to mention my 'loving fiance' Princeton, just how thoroughly disgusted I really was by the very idea of marrying that lecherous old pervert. I mean sure they would have been pissed. Princeton probably would have demanded that he be immediately reimbursed for all of the money he spent on me and our 'dream wedding'. And there's a pretty good chance that my mom would have called me every dirty name she could think of before finally throwing my 'ungrateful ass' out of 'her' house.

But even with all of that being said, and about ninety-nine percent of it all but certain to have happened, which would have undoubtedly turned my whole world upside down in the blink of an eye, I can't help but feel that life would have been preferable to the one I'm currently living. Because even though starting over in life while trying to find a way to survive on the 'mean' streets of One would have been hard, if not hell on Earth, it still would have been manageable. Especially for someone that's as smart, sophisticated, and attractive as I am.

But that's not the route I decided to take. No, instead, I just had to go ahead and gamble everything, my past, my present, my future, my entire life, on the one in a million crapshoot that is the Hunger Games. And while that gamble seemed like a good one to take at the time, especially since I would rather die a thousand deaths then spend one second of my life as Princeton's 'loving' and 'devoted' wife. But now that I've had some time to really sit down and think about things, I'm really starting to wonder if the only reason I thought that was the case was that I was actually stupid enough to think that volunteering was the only way I could take back control of my life.

Then again, I guess there's really no point in me dwelling on any of this stuff now. I mean, it's not like pissing and moaning about it is actually going to change anything at this point. I'm stuck with my current situation, regardless of whether I like it as much as I thought I would, and that's really all there is to it now.

So why can't I stop thinking about this and fall the freak asleep already?! I mean, I've been trying for the better part of the last three hours and I'm no closer to falling asleep now then I was when I first started trying to do so. And as if that wasn't bad enough, every time I close my eyes, the only things I can seem to see are the happy and smiling face of the depraved pervert I volunteered to get away from, my stupidly overbearing and money hungry parents, and the bank-breaking fairy-tale wedding that the three of them spent months planning.

Hell, I can't even force myself to focus on the non-personal stuff, like why it's important for me to establish dominance over the rest of the career pack as early as I possibly can. And we spent the better part of six or so hours talking about this stuff, and the only reason we stopped was that Hank got tired of me dozing off while he was talking. Which is super embarrassing for me in of itself. But since it can also be combined with my current inability to actually fall asleep again, now that I have the chance to do so without pissing off my mentor, it's crossed the line from regular old embarrassing, to super annoying and more than a little bit infuriating.

But, much like everything else I can't seem to stop thinking about, there really is no good reason for me to be dwelling on this. Is it annoying that I can't seem to fall asleep despite being physically, mentally, and emotionally exhausted, yes? Is it just as annoying that every time I close my eyes and try to fall asleep I'm greeted by the face of the man I volunteered for the Games to get away from, of course, it is? But none of that does, or at the very least should, matter to me right now.

No, the only thing I should be focused on right now is getting myself ready for the day ahead. And seeing as sleep, which would obviously be the best thing for me right now, simply refuses to come. I might as well do the next best thing and start getting my mind into the kind of place it's going to need to be if I'm going to survive an entire day of being judged like a piece of meat by all of the people in the Capitol with no real sleep. The thought of which almost makes the idea of saying 'I do' to Princeton bearable by comparison…Almost…

* * *

 **Joss Stellan-16 (D3M)**

I still don't know why I even bothered trying to fall asleep in the first place.

I understand that I need to sleep, especially if I'm going to have the energy I need to make it through today's festivities. Which means that I also understand why Quanta and Sagitarria forced me to come in my room and at least try to get some sleep instead of just leaving me alone and letting me continue to read in peace like I wanted them too. But me understanding why they sent me to bed, and actually being able to take advantage of the situation and fall asleep, which is the whole reason they sent me to bed in the first place, are two totally different things.

The fact that at this point I would really rather not sleep at all, or at the very least keep any sleeping I absolutely have to do to the absolute lowest level that is humanly possible, just makes it that much easier for me to continue fighting the good fight against the inevitable. Because in my heart of hearts I know, as much as I would rather not admit it, I'm eventually going to fall asleep. And try as I might, there's not a damn thing I can do about it.

After all, the fact that I might only have a few more days of life left to live, does nothing to change the fact that at some point, exhaustion, which has never lost a fight in its entire life, is going to do what it does best and win our little fight. And when it does, I'm going to have to sleep.

Of course, there is a downside to this whole forcing myself to stay awake for as long as I possibly can think, and I'm not just referring to the fact that when I finally do crash I'm going to crash super-duper hard. No, the main downside to all of this is that me being awake right now, when everything is fairly quiet and everyone else on the train that can talk to me is fast asleep, is that it gives me plenty of time to dwell on all of the stupid little mistakes I've made. And it's not just the ones from today that are running through my mind either.

Because in addition to having all of the dumb things I did and said today playing on repeat in my head, which I sort of expected to happen, what with how fresh all of that stuff is in my mind and what not. I'm also dealing with the slow but steady trickle of sixteen-years worth of other memories that seem to be intermingling with my fresh memories at random. Which is all sorts of annoying for all sorts of super stupid and obvious reasons.

I mean seriously, when I was growing up, my parents always told me that my life would flash before my eyes when I was about to die. I mean, that's supposed to be the tell-tale sign that lets you know it's about to happen. So I can't for the life of me figure out why it's happening to me now. Especially since I've got at least a week until I even really have to start thinking about dying.

Then again, and I absolutely loathe having to even think this, let alone admit it, but it's not like I actually have anything better to do right now. I mean, I would obviously rather not dwell on each and every stupid little mistake I've ever made, especially since I've apparently made a whole bunch more of them than I ever dreamed possible. But there are also much worse things that I could be thinking about. And as long as I'm not thinking about them, I guess I should count that as a small symbolic win of sorts.

I just hope someone on this train is an early riser. Because if I have to wait until late into the morning, or god forbid early in the afternoon, for someone who can talk back to me to wake up so that I can socialize with them. I'm going to lose my ever loving freaking mind….

* * *

 **Cliff Roseo-17 (D5M)**

Part of me wishes I had been a bit more open and honest with everyone that visited me before I left for the Capitol. I mean, there is a part of me that honestly believes that I said everything I actually wanted and needed to say. But the more time I have to think about how I left things, especially with my dad, nevermind Aya, the more I realize that there really was so much more I could, and in the end should, have shared with the two of them.

Would it really have killed me to tell my dad just how much I love and respect him and everything he's done for me? Would it have been so terrible if I had just opened up and told Aya that part of the reason I volunteered for the Games was the winning them was the only way I could ever possibly afford to give her and her siblings the life she and they so rightly deserve? I mean, saying all of that stuff might have made both of them, not to mention me, feel even worse about my decision to volunteer then we already did, but I'm going to feel a thousand times worse about it if I die without getting the chance to tell them.

Stop it, Cliff! Just...Just stop it….OK? I mean seriously, what good could possibly come out of thinking about this kind of stuff now? It's not like brooding over all the super important and personal things I should have told the people I love that I went ahead and left unsaid or anything. So there's no reason, none whatsoever, for me to sit here and do just that. Especially not when I can, and in all reality should, be focusing on doing everything in my power to make sure I make it back to Five so I can fix my stupid mistake.

Of course if saying, or in my case thinking, something was enough to make it a reality I would never have needed to put myself in this situation in the first place. And since I know for a fact I'm not going to be able to focus on anything else except what I oh so stupidly left unsaid, at least as long as I'm laying here in bed, in the dark, staring up at the ceiling like some sort of space cadet, I might as well get up and find something, really anything, else to do on this train to take my mind off that stuff.

So that's exactly what I'm going to do. And after spending the better part of the next five minutes fumbling around in the dark in search of my shirt and pants, which I had haphazardly tossed into separate corners of my room after Atlas sent me to bed a few hours ago. I quietly slip out of my room and tiptoe past the other sleeping rooms and into the car that Atlas referred to as the "parlor," in search of something to take my mind off of things.

"Having trouble sleeping, Cliff?"

OK, so I'm not normally an easily startled person. In fact, I'm pretty sure that I can count the number of times I've ever actually been startled on one hand and still have a finger or two left over. So I'm not exaggerating in the slightest when I say that hearing a voice, even one as quiet as the one I just heard, when I honestly thought that everyone was still asleep, scares the ever-loving crap out of me. In fact, and I'm not the least bit proud that I actually have to admit this, even if it is just to myself, I was so startled that I actually jumped back and yelped a little under my breath. While Nikolai, who is visibly proud of the fact that he just scared me half to death, slides out of the shadows and struts over to where I'm still white knuckling the backside of an overstuffed armchair.

"For the love of….You scared the crap out of me Nikolai!"

"I can see that Cliff. But that doesn't answer my question either."

I was hoping he'd miss that part, especially since I'm really not sure how I'm supposed to answer his question. I mean, do I tell him the truth, that I'm up and about because I'm an emotional mess and needed to clear my head before I drove myself crazy? Or should I try and make something up and hope he's groggy enough to buy it long enough for me to get out of here?

Fortunately, or it could be, unfortunately, depending on how all of this ends up playing out in the end, I never actually have to make a decision one way or the other. Because before I really get the chance to do so, Nikolai has slid around me and my chair, which I still have one heck of a death grip on, scooped up a half-empty bottle of what I think is bourbon and an empty, and I assume clean, glass, and quietly made his way back to his shadow shrouded table near the compartment door. From there, he quickly and expertly pours himself two glasses of whatever it was he had in the bottle, before passively motioning for me to come and join him.

"I can see the gears inside your head turning. But I'm going to go ahead and assume that your lack of a response means that you haven't quite settled on an answer that you think is believable enough for me to buy that also doesn't give away the real reason that you're up.

"So, why don't you go ahead and join me for a drink. You can sit there and listen to me yammer on for a minute or two about why I'm still awake. And hopefully, by the time I'm done, you'll have come up with your answer.

"Sound good?"

You see, he made that sound like it was a question, but I get the feeling that it was really anything but. And so, with that in mind, I really don't see how I can not take him up on his offer.

"Well if you're going to insist."

"Oh, I am."

"Then I guess I really don't have a choice. But if it's all the same to you, is there any way I can get something else to drink? My dad made me promise never to drink alcohol. He says it's a weak man's refuge and that drinking it makes you less of a man.

"No offense."

"None taken. In fact, not only is your dad right, at least for the most part.

"Of course if he had done and seen the kind of things that I have, he might realize that any refuge, even a weak man's refuge, can be incredibly inviting under the right circumstances."

"See I don't buy that though.

"I mean, my dad has been through hell in his life and he doesn't need to drown his memories in booze to deal with them."

"That's because your dad is a very strong-willed and lucky man."

"I don't buy that either Nikolai.

"I mean, you may have done some things in your life that you're not proud of, but you've also done a lot of good that you don't seem to be giving yourself enough credit for.

"You paid to rebuild the orphanage after it burned down. You donate money to the District Food Bank so they can buy food. Heck, you're personally supporting the families of five of your fallen tributes."

"None of that makes me a good man Cliff.

"At best it makes me a very remorseful and penitent sinner that's trying to use some of the blood money I won for killing kids to deal with my guilt."

"What makes you say that Nikolai?"

"The fact that good people are incapable of winning the Hunger Games, Cliff. They just are.

"I mean I hate to say this, I really do, but good people, truly good people, just aren't built to make it through that kind of hell in one piece.

"And at the end of the day, you're going to have to stop being the good person you want to be, and start being the self-centered child killer that's willing to do anything he has to do to survive.

"Because those are the only kind of people that don't come home from the arena in a bag or a box."

I don't...I don't know how I'm supposed to respond to that either.

"I know that sounds harsh, but it's like I told you and Nira earlier. I don't have time to hold your hands through any of this.

"And at the end of the day, all I can do is tell you what you need to do to put yourself in the best possible position to survive. You're the one that has to decide if the price of survival is worth paying..."

* * *

 **Julie van Vigne-12 (D7F)**

"No….No stop it….Stay away from me….Please….Please….MOMMY...MOMMY WHERE ARE YOU!"

"What's wrong Julie?!"

"I don't...I don't know where I am and I can't find my mommy!

"Who are...Who are you?"

"I'm James, your mentor."

"My...My what?"

"Your mentor, Julie. You know, the guy whose job it is to make sure you make it out of the Hunger Games and back to your family in one piece."

I don't...I don't know what this guy is talking about. I mean, I kind of remember him talking to me about some stuff before I fell asleep. I think he might have even been the nice man who told me the story about the three fairy princesses that actually put me to sleep…

Wait a second, that was him! Now I remember. He's James, the nice man from back home who's going to take care of me while I'm visiting the Capitol.

"I'm sorry James. I don't...I don't…"

"You don't what Julie?"

"I don't...I don't know what happened. One second I was fine and the next I wasn't."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, one second I was listening to you tell me a story and the next I was in this dark place that was full of scary looking monsters that were chasing me. And running as fast as I could, trying to find my mommy or someone else, but I tripped. And then one of the monsters caught up to me and jumped on my back and bit down on the back of my neck and started pulling my skin off my body..."

"It sounds like you had one heck of a nightmare there kiddo. Are you ok?"

"I think so. I mean, I don't think I had an accident or anything like that. But I don't...I don't think I'll be able to fall back asleep unless I talk to my mommy. She's the one that always makes the bad dreams go away after I have one."

"And how does she do that?"

"She sings a song that puts them to sleep and then uses the magic wands my grandpa carved for me and my baby sister to round them all up and stuff them inside of the special bad-dream box my grandma gave me for my birthday."

"I see. Well, I'm afraid that I don't have a magic wand to corral these bad dreams, or a special bad-dream box to stuff them inside of so they can't bother you anymore. But if you're willing to teach me the song your mom sings to put them to sleep, I'd be more than willing to sing it so that they'll be too busy sleeping to pick on you for a little while."

"Will you...Will you stay with me after that too? You know, to make sure we got them all so that I'm not too scared to close my eyes again."

"I um….I guess that I can do that for you. If that's really what you want me to do."

"Thank you so much, James! You're the best mentor thing in the whole wide world!"

"Don't a….Don't mention it, sweetheart.

"So, why don't you sing the first part of this special song for me so I can hear how it's supposed to go? That way I can get this messed cleaned up real quick and you can get back to sleep. Which if I'm lucky will give me a chance to catch a couple of z's before it's time for the two of us to get up for breakfast…"

* * *

 **Quills Danelhayr-17 (D9M)**

I can't believe that it's finally morning! I mean seriously, last night felt like it was by far the longest night in the history of the world. It just would not freaking end, despite my nearly constant begging and pleading with whatever monster it is that controls time to make it do so. And while I do understand why my pleas might have been ignored, I do only have one life to give and I've already promised it to the god of death I'm about to dance with in the arena, but that doesn't make the fact that last night dragged on forever any easier for me to deal with.

But none of that matters now. The long night of waiting is finally over and I can finally start getting myself ready for the first day of the rest of my life. The day where I can finally put my past to bed and start focusing on the fact that I'm finally about to get the opportunity to do the one and only thing I've ever actually wanted to do in my entire life. Look death square in the eye and ask it to dance.

In fact, I'm so excited to finally be getting this opportunity, I'm not sure how I'm going to make it through the next six days of pre-death dancing boredom without losing my freaking mind.

"Hey there Quills. You're up awful early, not to mention entirely to bright-eyed and bushy-tailed for someone that's up this freaking early."

"Oh if you think I'm unnecessarily bright-eyed and bushy-tailed now just wait until you see on the morning of the games, Oatis.

"And for the record boss, I'm not up awful early so much as I'm still up from last night."

"Are you saying you didn't sleep last night? Like, at all?"

"Not necessarily. I mean, I did get a couple of hours of sleep in the middle of the night. But I've also been awake and dressed for hours. Heck, the only reason I stayed in my room was that I didn't want to make too much noise while the rest of you were still trying to sleep."

"So um...What...What time did you get up exactly?"

"I don't know. I think the clock on my dresser said it was four, maybe four fifteen in the morning. Why?"

"Because you didn't go to bed until between three and three-thirty Quills. Which means you got, at most, around seventy-five minutes or so of sleep last night."

"Huh. I could have sworn that I slept for at least three hours last night. Or maybe I was just so excited about today that it just felt like I had slept for that long."

"Well, you didn't. But if you'd like to head back to your room and try to catch a few more z's you're more than welcome to do so. I mean, you've got about an hour and a half or so before the avox will have breakfast ready so you've got plenty of time to kill."

"Thanks for the offer Oatis but I'm going to pass on it. I mean, I'm way to hyper and wound up to sleep right now and I know it. So there's really no reason for me to waste my time pretending that I might be able to do so."

I honestly can't tell if the look on Oatis's face right now is supposed to be one of slightly impressed respect at the fact I'm able to function at this high and hyper a level on such a little amount of sleep. Or one of comical disgust at the fact that I'm not taking him up on his offer to get a few more minutes of sleep before starting my day.

I mean, it's not like I honestly care which one of those two it is. At least not as much as my last statement might make someone think I do. It's just that I'm a bit surprised that I'm not able to read him well enough to tell the difference between two reactions. Especially when said reactions are damn near polar opposites of one another.

"Suit yourself Quills. But I should warn you, today is going to be one of the single longest and most boring days of your young life. And falling asleep on your feet, however impressive it may seem at first glance, would be the absolute worst thing you could possibly do."

"Duly noted and disregarded sir."

"Fair enough.

"So, do you want to talk a little shop while we wait for the other to get up, or did you want me to leave you alone for a while?"

You know, I honestly don't know how to respond to that question. I mean, I got up without honestly expecting anyone else to be awake yet. So I never really put much thought into what it was I actually wanted to do with the time I have between now and when everyone else stopped being lazy and decided to join me.

"If you're willing to talk shop with me Oatis I'm not going to turn you down."

"Good. That means there's still a chance for you to actually learn something from me before all of this is said and done. And as much as I hate to admit this, that's a hell of a lot better than nothing…"

* * *

 **Lexy Bloom-17 (D11F)**

I don't know how much longer I'm going to be able to keep pretending to be this ultra-competitive and in control supergirl, everyone on this train thinks I am. I mean it's not that I'm not used to pretending to be something that I'm not, because after seventeen years of pretending to be the a-typical stuck up rich girl that knows she's better than everyone else in the room I've become something of an expert at doing exactly that with little to no real effort.

But this is the first time I've ever had to keep my bitch mask on and my ice queen facade in place every second of the day. And if yesterday is any indication of just how physically and emotionally exhausting doing so is going to be, I'm going to need to make sure I get some actual sleep going forward.

I mean, staying up late and doing math problems to help me relax and unwind from a stressful day seemed like a good, if not great, thing to do at the time. After all, I do that sort of thing all the time when I need to destress back at home, so it seemed only natural to do the same thing last night when I was having trouble falling asleep.

Unfortunately, I never actually took the time to stop and consider just how different my current situation is from my normal one. Let alone how throwing an unpredictable variable like staying up until the buttcrack of dawn to work on math problems would affect me going forward. Which if I'm being completely honest with myself is something I have a nasty habit of doing way more often than I'd really like to admit.

So here I am. With ten double-sided pages full of solved and unsolved math problems. And zero drive, energy, or desire to do anything that would force me to even sort of resembles a normal and functioning human. Let alone the ice-hearted, queen b bitch that everyone in the world, myself included, is expecting me to be.

But it's not like I really have a whole lot of choice in the matter either. At least not in the grand scheme of things anyway. After all, I'm the one that made my bed with this stupidly short-sighted decision, as now I'm just going to have to suck it up and lie in it. Even if that's the last thing, or maybe second to the last thing, it really depends on where I decide to rank the whole dying in the arena like some sort of stupid animal thing, that I actually WANT to do right now.

And so, despite my very real and understandable reservations about even trying to do anything today, I force myself to slip out of the unexpectedly warm and comforting embrace of my silk bed sheets and make my way, albeit angrily, in the direction of my small yet somehow obscenely opulent little bathroom. From there, I spend the next fifteen or so minutes enjoying the warm and bubbly water as it beats down rhythmically on my head, neck, and back, until I'm very rudely and unnecessarily ripped away from my unexpected little moment of peace by the sudden explosion of loud and semi-frantic banging on the door that separates my room from the rest of the train.

And so, again with very real and understandable reservations against doing so, I force myself to do something that I really don't want to do. I turn off the water, get out of the shower, wrap myself up in one of the unexpectedly soft and warm towels, and storm across the room with an angry scowl slapped on my dripping wet face. And once I'm there, I take a fraction of a second to catch my breath before throwing the door open and exploding on the poor soul, who in this case appears to be my district partner Euni, that was unfortunate enough to be saddled with the job of making sure that I'm awake like I'm supposed to be.

"WHAT?, EUNI! For the love of god, WHAT DO YOU NEED?!"

"I um...I was sent by Violetta and Honorius to make sure you were awake and to tell you that breakfast is ready. And since I can clearly see that you are awake, and have now told you about the food, I think it would be best if I…"

"If you left me the hell alone so I can get dressed? Or were you hoping that I would let you come in and watch?"

Ok, that was probably uncalled for. Even bitch mode Lexy thinks that it was unnecessarily harsh and mean, and she almost never thinks that about anything she says, at least not until she's had a little bit of time to think about it anyway. But I don't think I'm going to get a chance to apologize for saying it either. Because within seconds of the words leaving my mouth, and maybe a fraction of a second after I started to regret saying them, Euni has already bowed his, thrown out a garbled and marginally understandable apology, and quickly retreated down the hall and out of the sleeper car altogether. Leaving me dripping wet, emotionally conflicted, still physically and mentally exhausted, and now needing to hurry up and get dressed.

Can this day possibly get any worse..?

* * *

 **A/N: Ok, so this took way longer for me to finish writing than it had any right to take and I'm sorry for the stupid delay between chapter. I'm also going to go ahead and apologize for how dry this chapter really is, it's one of the harder and more boring ones to right but it has to be in here for the story to flow properly so I put it in. But I promise, the next couple chapters, which will be pre-parade prep and the parade itself, will be much more action packed, so buckle up and get ready for a wild ride :D**


	22. Belly of the Beast(Train Ride 4)

**Mazeem Law-14 (D10M)**

I don't think I've ever seen so much delicious looking and smelling food in my entire life. I mean, spending the first few years of my life in the group home never really afforded, at least I think that's the right word, me the chance to eat good food, and I definitely didn't get any after I ran away and started living in that dilapidated old shack on the outskirts of Ten. So the fact that this is the first time I've seen this kind of "spread," as Wren called it, really isn't as big of a shock to me as it might be to someone like Piper, who I can only imagine ate food like this on a fairly regular basis.

Of course, that doesn't mean I'm not just as excited about getting to try some of this stuff as I've been about just about anything in my entire life. And don't even get me started on how hyped up I am to see what kind of food they're going to feed us once we get to the Capitol. I mean seriously, if they're willing to pony up for this kind of stuff on the train ride in, I can't even begin to imagine what the Capitol spread is going to look like.

"So, Mazeem, did you have a chance to think about some of the things we talked about last night?"

Of course, it would be a hell of a lot easier for me to do so if I wasn't constantly being pestered with questions by my mentor James. I mean, I get that he's just trying to do his job, which I guess is a super hard and demanding job and what not, but is it really so much for me to ask that he not try to do it when I've got more important things, like how in the hell I'm going to be able to sample all of this food before the avox start taking it away from me, on my mind?

"You know I meant to, but I never actually had a chance to do so, James. I just….I just ran out of time. What with being sent to bed early for yelling at Sparkle because she refused to stop asking me stupid questions, and demanding that everyone just stop talking and leave me the hell alone, and what not."

"Yeah I remember all of that, I was there. However, we did have time to cover a few kind of important things that I asked you to think about before you went off and lost your marbles."

"So you did.

"But I honestly didn't think you expected me to do so after being screamed at by some painted up moron who promptly sent to bed early for having the audacity to answer her question truthfully.

"Especially since we all know that she went out of her way to pester and nag the ever-loving crap out of me until I finally snapped and gave her the "real" and "honest" answer she had been trying to coax out of me for the better part of the day"

"Be that as it may, I still need you to stay focused on the task at hand at all times Mazeem. I mean, I'm sure you're already plenty tired of hearing me say this, especially since I'm pretty sure that I've said it at least a hundred times already, but I really don't have all that much time to get you ready for the Games.

"So the last thing you can afford to do…"

"The last thing I can afford to do is waste any of the incredibly limited and precious time that I do have, pouting like a baby because Sparkle made me feel bad. Right?"

"I'm not...I'm not sure that I would have phrased it that way per say. But I think, or at least I hope, that you got the gist of what I was saying well enough. So I guess that's good enough for me. Especially since a basic and general understanding of the main point is all you really need to take away from this at the end of the day anyway."

"Fantastic, James.

"So, is there anything else you need from me? Or am I good to stop listing to this and start stuffing my face?

"After all, you did say that it was super important that I get up early and eat a good and filling breakfast before we get to the Capitol. You know, since today is going to be, as you so perfectly put it, the single longest and most emotionally and physically exhausting and demanding day of my entire life up to this point."

"Hold on a second. You remember me saying that?"

"Of course I do. In fact, I'm pretty sure it's the last thing you said to me before Sparkle all but drug me out of the room by my ear."

"Oh, I remember when I said it Mazeem. I just didn't know that you heard me say it. I mean, it wasn't something that I actually said to you as it was the end part of an offline discussion between Wren and me over whether or not it was fair for Sparkle to send you to bed without dinner like that.

"But more importantly, how is it you can remember something that you heard in passing once so clearly that you can repeat it back to me damn near verbatim. But you can't remember any of the basic Games stuff that we spent almost three hours covering?"

"What can I say, I sort of have a one-track mind when it comes to things like this."

"So it would seem. I just hope you're smart enough to focus that one track on more important things going forward."

"Maybe. But I wouldn't bet on it…"

* * *

 **Reid Stitchell-16 (D6F)**

"Hey, Axel?"

"Yes, Reid?"

"Would you...Would you mind if I asked you a couple of questions?"

"I don't...I don't see why not.

"But if these are Game or Parade related questions, I'd recommend that you ask Zefram or Zenobia. Because as much as I might hate having to admit this, I know just as much about both of those topics as you do, which is to say next to nothing. So I'm not sure how much I can really help in that regard."

"I get that Axel.

"However, with that being said, I am asking you. And since I'm asking you instead of one of them, I think it's pretty safe to say that my question is not Game or Parade related."

"Fair point.

"Do you mind if I ask what your questions are about then?"

"Oh you know, general knowledge stuff and what not."

"I see,

"Well, in that case, I don't see any real harm in you asking me a question or two.

"I mean, there's a pretty good chance that I won't be able to answer any of them anyway. But if you really want to ask me something, I don't see any reason you shouldn't."

"Thank you.

"So, what do you think would happen to a person's body if they jumped off the top of a train that was moving as fast as our train is and slammed into the side of one of those trees we keep zipping past?"

Ok, so if the look on Axel's face is any indication. And seeing as it's the only thing I really have to go on at this point I kind of have to assume that it is. My question, as innocent and straightforward as it is in my eyes, seems to have caught poor Axel completely and totally off guard.

Then again, there's also a pretty good chance, maybe even as good as fifty percent, that he didn't actually understand the question. That or he was so shocked by the question that he sort of tuned out in shock half-way through the question and didn't catch the full thing.

"I um...I'm not sure that I heard you right Reid.

"Did you...Did you just ask me if I knew what would happen to a person's body if they jumped from a moving train and smashed into a tree?"

Well, I guess that answers that question…

"Why yes, I most certainly did good sir."

"But why in the...Why in the world would you ask me something like that Reid?"

"Why not?

"I mean, I've been trying to come up with an answer since I first woke up and I'm not even close to doing so. And as I'm sure you can imagine, the fact that I can't come up with an answer is driving me insane."

"Oh, I'm pretty sure you were insane long before any of this happened…"

"Excuse me?"

"Oh, nothing. I was just...I was just trying to figure out why you thought I would be able to answer that question is all.

"I mean, I'm not an idiot or anything, I do understand how basic physics works and what not. But I honestly don't know how to even begin answering your question. What's more, I'm not sure what it is I said to you that gave you the impression that I could answer it in the first place."

You know, I really hate to admit this, but he's got a point there. I mean, what about him was it that made me think he could possibly answer that question? Did he mention something in passing that made me think he would know something about this stuff? Or was I just so desperate to finally come up with an answer to the question that's been bugging me all morning that I was willing to ask the first person I saw if they could answer it?

"You know Axel, I'm honestly not sure why I asked you. I mean, I know that I couldn't ask Zefram or Zenobia because the only questions either of them are interested in answering are, as you pointed out before, Game or Parade related, and we both know that the avox can't talk. So I guess that made you the only person I could ask by default."

"Well, it's hard for me to argue with that logic. I mean I want to, but I really can't."

"Does that...Does that mean you're willing to sit down and at least try to answer it or..?"

"I mean, I guess I can give it a go. If you really want me to that is."

"Oh, I do.

"In fact, I've actually come up with a few addendums to my original question that might make it a bit easier for you to answer it. Even if it does mean that you might have to answer five or six questions that are just slight variations of the ones I've already asked."

"Well, that...That's just fantastic Reid. It really is."

"I know!

"I just hope we don't end up running out of time before I get the chance to ask them all..."

* * *

 **Cora Arrowood-16 (D12F)**

I don't think I've ever seen something as breathtakingly beautiful in my entire life as the glass and marble statues they have lining the outer wall of the Capitol. I mean seriously, there's nothing, and I do mean nothing, in all of District Twelve that's anywhere near as breathtaking as that absolutely stunning pair of marble lions with the stained glass manes that our train just passed are.

"Ok, so as I'm sure you've both guessed by now we don't really have a lot of time left to talk so I'll try to make this as short and sweet as I possibly can. I've thrown a lot of information at both of you in a very short period of time and I'm sure you have questions, and I'll be more than happy to answer them once we get back to our suite at the end of the day. So go ahead and push your questions and concerns off to the side for now and try to focus on making a good first impression during the parade.

"And remember, the key to doing that is to make it look like you're having fun and that you're happy to be here. You also might have to pretend that your parade outfit isn't the complete and total train wreck everyone with half a brain knows it is…"

"Hold on a second, Onyx.

"So I know what I'm about to say is at best a very crude and rudimentary paraphrase of the stuff you just finished saying, but I'm doing it for emphasis so just go with it."

"OK."

"What did you mean when you said we might need to "pretend" that we like our Parade outfits even if they're the most hideous thing anyone has ever seen?"

"I'm not...Is there really more than one way you can interpret that statement, Cora? Like, seriously?"

"Maybe. I mean, I understand what it is you just said, I'm not stupid."

"And I was in no way implying that you…"

"But I don't understand why we would ever have to "pretend" to like our outfits. I mean, is it really possible for our stylists to stick us with something that we won't absolutely love?"

I don't know why in the hell I felt the need to ask that question. I mean seriously, I've seen enough tribute parades in my time to know for a fact that not every parade costume is the miracle fashion statement that everyone would think it should be. Hell, some of them, especially the pair the kids from Twelve, like me, seem to get saddled with on a fairly regular basis, are downright atrocious.

"I see.

"Well, the short answer to your question, as I'm almost positive that you already know full well, is that parade outfits aren't always as amazing as they really could or should be.

"The longer more involved answer is that the stylist you're most likely going to end up working with just doesn't care.

"They're probably going to be either fresh out of the stylist academy, which means they have little to no practical experience to fall back on, or have been doing the job for so long they now care more about riding out the twilight of their career in comfort then they do to actually putting in the effort needed to come up with a decent outfit anymore.

"Does that answer your question, or would you like me to continue trying to clear things up?"

"I um...No I think I've got it. Thank you Onyx."

"Don't mention it, Cora. After all, answering your questions, even if they are a bit on the stupid side, is like ninety percent of the job I'm paid to do.

"However, with that being said, I'd very much like to get back to the issue at hand. Provided that's ok with you my dear."

Ok, so to be honest, I don't know why he's even bothering to ask me that question. I mean, I get that he's probably just trying to be polite. But it's pretty obvious to everyone in the room that he's going to do whatever he wants regardless of what my answer is. At least I'm pretty sure that he will, provided he has enough time to do so that is.

But as luck would have it, at least in my otherwise insignificant little opinion, time is the one thing he doesn't have. And within maybe fifteen seconds of him asking me if it's ok for him to continue, our train slides into the inviting maw of the cavernously large main train station and begins to gently coast towards an inevitable stop. And as it does, and Ash and I are treated to our first real look at the throng of Capitolite supporters that have come to the station to greet us, I can't help but be amazed at just how big, not to mention breathtakingly amazing, all of this really is...

* * *

 **Sandor Torrent-16 (D4M)**

You know, it seems kind of funny for me to be admitting this now, considering just how childish and stupid it really is after I stop and take a real good look at my current situation and what not. But there was a small part of me that was not just sort of looking forward to taking part in all of the festivities that are supposed to be on the docket today. But was actually super excited about it.

After all, it's not every day that anyone, even someone that's been as lucky in life as I have, gets the once in a lifetime opportunity to be pampered like a king, by an entire team of highly trained pampering professionals no less. Before being whisked away to the tribute parade so they can be treated like an honest to god rock star.

Of course, that was before I spent the better part of the last two hours being scrubbed, rubbed, poked, prodded, manhandled and inspected like a piece of meat. The fact that all of this is being done by a bunch of super colorful, and overly made up, freaks, only serves to make it that much more uncomfortable and awkward than it already was.

"Hey, so I know I've told you guys this a couple of times already, but I don't think you were listing when I did. So, to be fair, I'll say this one more time and one more time only.

"You need to stop touching me down there. Seriously."

"Trust me, Sandor, none of us wants to touch you down there. But until you stop sweating long enough for us to get you cleaned up, we're going to have to keep, as you so crudely put it, touching you down there. Because as much as we may not like it, we have to keep that area clean and smell free so your stylists can get you dressed for the parade without having to spend half of his time holding his nose and suppressing her gag reflex."

"Fine then. Will you at least let ME wash my private areas then? I mean wanting them to be clean and smell free is all well and good, but there's no reason for the three of you to keep doing something that I'm more than capable of doing by myself."

"Sorry kid. No can do."

"Why the hell not?"

"Because we don't think you're anywhere near competent enough to do it right Sandor. At least not without constant supervision and guidance.

"And if we're going to have to stand there and look over your shoulder to make sure you do it right, we might as well take the extra step and just do it for you.

"That way we know for sure that our job has been done properly."

"Did you...Did you seriously just imply that I'm too stupid to be trusted to wash properly?"

"Of course not Sandor. I mean, there was really no implying about anything I just said.

"Because I, and to a lesser extent my partners, are flat-out saying it. And based on our initial impression of your appearance and smell when you came into our shop, I find it hard to believe that you can seriously make the argument that you're not entirely too stupid to be trusted to clean yourself properly.

"I mean come on kid, have you looked at yourself in a mirror recently?"

Ok, this guy is officially starting to rub me the wrong way. And I don't just mean with all of the highly inappropriate, and in all reality totally unnecessary, touching and crap. And if I have to spend any more than five more minutes, at the absolute most, with his condescending ass, I'm liable to lose my shit and tell him what I really think.

"You can send Sandor in to see me now Quirinus. I'm ready to get to work on him."

FINALLY!

"Well, Quirinus it's been fun. But it sounds like I have someplace to be.

"So, if you'll be so kind as to remove your hand from my junk and point me in the direction I need to go. I'll be on my way."

"Good. Aelia is waiting for you in the small room on the far side of the bay. Try not to keep her waiting too long…"

* * *

 **Tartarus Katsaros-17 (D2F)**

I don't think I've been as disgusted with myself as I am right now since the day before I finally stopped pretending to be something I wasn't and killed Elysium.

I mean, I understand that my style team is just trying to do their job, but I never should have let them do half of the crap I let them do. Because while applying makeup to accentuate my eyes and cheekbones is one thing, I do that on my own all the time, but things like eyeshadow, blush, and lip gloss, not to mention all of the other beauty crap, is a whole different story.

"Why hello there my dear, you must beTartarus.

"My name is Carinus, and I've been assigned the oh so enviable task of serving as your...What in blazes did those fools do to your face and hair?!"

"I believe they said they were "unfreakafying" me sir."

"I told them none of that was necessary."

"You what?"

"I told them none of that was necessary. Not after I spent all day yesterday gender neutralizing your outfit so that I wouldn't have to embarrass you any more than was absolutely necessary. Especially since I have to force you to wear an outfit that fits inside of the god-awful parade theme the Head Gamemaker insisted all of the stylists conform our costume designs too."

I can't...I can't believe this. Those ass holes actually made me put on all of this makeup, nevermind the hour and a half plus worth of skin moisturizing and the time it took to style this absolutely assine whig they said I had to use because my parade outfit demanded that I have, as they put it, "long and super feminine looking hair". When they knew damn good and well that, as well as everything else they told me, was nothing more than an unabashed, bald-faced freaking lie!

"You don't...You don't happen to have a towel or something like that I can borrow do you? I'd like to get this shit off my face as soon as humanly possible."

I get the feeling that Carinus understands why I asked him that question, or maybe he just gets that I'm embarrassed to have all of this crap on my face. Either way, thankfully, he simply bends down, scoops up a couple of fabric scraps, and tosses them my way. He doesn't stop to ask me why I want to clean off my face, or anything like that. And once I've got as much of the crap off as I can manage without water, I walk over and hand him the fabric back while muttering a very quiet and subdued sounding thank you.

"Don't mention it Tartarus. Believe it or not, I actually understand where you're coming from better than you might think I do. That's why I spent so much time making sure your outfit was gender neutral."

"I honestly doubt that Carinus. But with that being said, I do appreciate the fact that you went out of your way to make my parade outfit gender neutral.

"I would have preferred that you make it for a boy mind you. You know, since I'm a boy and all that. But the fact that you're not going to make me wear a battle dress or a brazier of some sort, is better than nothing.

"At least I guess it is…"

"It's the least I can do for you kid. I mean, you're going to have more than your share of problems out there as it is. So any little thing I can do to help you feel a little more comfortable and normal, is worth it to me.

"You should see some of the amazing ideas I'm throwing around for your interview outfit…Of course, we'll both have time to think about that stuff after the parade."

You know I really hate to admit this, especially since I've already kind of made up my mind that I'm going to hate everyone in the Capitol for being a super judgemental prick, but I'm starting to sort of like Carinus a little bit. I mean, I'm sure he's still a prick of some kind in his own special way, but he's by far the nicest and most understanding Capotilite I've met so far.

I just hope he continues to be a surprisingly decent and understanding person going forward. Because if my luck in the past is any indication, the odds of me finding anyone else in this god forsaken hell hole of a city that's even half as decent and understanding as he seems to be, is probably as close to zero as it can possibly be without actually being zero.

But I guess I can worry slash dwell on that once the parade is over.

"So, are you going to show me this amazing parade outfit or do I have to guess what it is first?"

"You know Tartarus. I was starting to think that you were never going to ask me that question.

"If you would be so kind as to follow me, my boy…"

* * *

 **Kylon Warwick-17 (D8M)**

I can't believe that I'm saying this, but our tribute parade outfits are absolutely amazing. I mean seriously, I've seen my fair share of bad slash awful parade outfits in my day, and while most of them have come from District's Five and Twelve, a fair amount have come from Eight as well. But not this year.

No, instead of having to wear an unsightly mess of ugly colors and unruly fabric that looks like a drunk toddler threw it together in the middle of a temper tantrum, I'm wearing this amazing outfit. I just wish I knew what in the sam hell it was supposed to be.

"Is everything ok Kylon?"

"Yeah. I'm just...I'm just trying to figure out just what it is I'm supposed to be dressed up as is all."

"You mean it's not obvious?"

"Would I be trying to figure out what I am if it was?

"Don't get me wrong, I'm sure that whatever it is that I'm dressed up as is one heck of a good interpretation of it. But that doesn't mean I have any idea what it is."

"I take it that means you guys out in the district's don't study astrology all that much then?"

"Not really.

"I mean, I've never even heard of astrology before just now. And while I can't speak for the other eleven districts or anything, I get the feeling that most people in them have never heard of it either.

"After all, if it's not Panem History, basic reading, writing, and arithmetic, or something related to our districts main industry, we probably don't learn all that much about it."

"Fair enough.

"And to answer your as of yet still unspoken question to me, you're dressed up as warrior version of a Libra."

"And what exactly is a Libra? If you don't mind me asking."

"It's a member of the astrological zodiac. I don't know all that much about it, outside of what it looks like and all that, so there's really not a whole lot I can tell you about it.

"But if you're really interested, I'm sure I could track down a book or two about the zodiac for you to read during your downtime after training. As long as your mentor is ok with it that is."

"That would be amazing Nero. Thank you."

"Don't mention it.

"But with that being said I need you to follow me back into the studio. It looks like I might need to apply a fresh layer of gold body paint on your left shoulder. And I'm still not happy with how much lower the left side of your battle skirt is sitting compared to the right."

"Do you really think it's a good idea to be messing with my costume this close to the start of the parade?"

"Probably not. But seeing as I'm going to do so anyway, I think it's a good idea for you to stop asking questions and just do what I tell you. Because the sooner I get started, the better our chances are of me getting done before you have to go downstairs. After all, I'm sure you'd rather not have to try to make a good first impression with only half a costume on and a discolored shoulder..."

* * *

 **A/N: Ok, so first off, let me apologize for the absolutely unacceptable amount of time it took me to get this chapter up. I got sick, twice as a matter of fact, and fell behind in school, which meant that I had to spend every second of free time I had catching back up so I don't fail one of my classes. And now that I've done that, I hope that this will be the last major delay I have to put all of you through.**

 **But enough about that, I'm much more interested in hearing what everyone thinks of the chapter, this was another one of those dry chapters but I won't be offended if you all lie and tell me it was awesome :p And it should be the last dry one we have until we get into the arena. :D**

 **Anyway, I look forward to seeing you all in a few days for the parade, so for those of you that have stuck with me through all of the delays, I hope you brought your seatbelt, because things are about to pick up in a hurry :D**


	23. Beginning of the End(Tribute Parade)

**Lanteia Cintas (Master of Ceremonies)**

"So, are you excited for this year's parade Ms. Cintas?"

"Why in the hell would I be excited for the parade Majorian? I wasn't excited last year or the year before that and I didn't know what everyone was going to be dressed as a week in advance then either.

"Add in the fact that I honestly believe that this is by far the single stupidest possible "theme" for a parade outfit in the history of ever, and there's no reason in hell for me to be the least bit excited about the parade."

"I understand that ma'am. And while I also understand that knowing what the parade outfits are and thinking they're stupid can suck some of the mystery and fun out of the parade, it doesn't have to stop you from enjoying your job.

"Does it?"

"Not if you enjoy this part of the job. But seeing as I've always thought the tribute parade was nothing more than a huge and unnecessary waste of time, and now I don't even have the possibility of being surprised by just how good or bad each of the costumes actually is…"

"I think...I think I understand ma'am.

"Does this mean you'd like me to have your traditional post-parade broadcast triple tequila shots lined up for you when you're done?"

"Of course it does kid. And why don't you go ahead and have a double bourbon and coke waiting for me at the end of the shot line for me as well? I get the feeling I'm going to want to obliterate the memory of just how long and boring tonight is going to be as fast as I possibly can."

Majorian doesn't respond to my last statement verbally, and in all honesty, I never expected him too. Instead, he offers up a simple nod of understanding before quietly bowing his head to me and slipping out of the broadcast booth and back into the surprisingly subdued sounding hustle and bustle of the production area, leaving me alone in the soundproof booth with nothing but my thoughts for company.

But as luck would have it, I'm not alone with my thoughts for very long. And within five minutes of Majorian's exit, my producer is softly but incessantly whispering a soft countdown in my ear as the last few seconds before the start of this year's tribute parade, as well as the Games proper, continue to slowly melt away into the yawning maw of the past…

* * *

"Good evening Panem and welcome, to the Tribute Parade for this, the One Hundred and Fifth Annual, HUNGER GAMES!

"Now, I'm sure you're all just as excited about what you're about to see as I am. Especially since we all know the stylists have come together to institute a super cool overarching theme for all of the outfits. So let's not waste any more time than we already have to dive right into the action."

Good god, this is going to be one hell of an excruciatingly long and painful night…

"Our first chariot, the one being pulled by those stunningly gorgeous snow-white horses that have been covered in all sorts of precious gems, belongs to Isabelle Price and Bijou Devon of District One. Now, as I'm sure most of you can already tell, Isabelle and Bijou are dressed up as a representation of the astrological Gemini, which is why they look like twins and their chariot is covered in that beautiful looking faux plasma. Which I've been told is supposed to represent a substance called St. Elmo's fire.."

Ok, if anyone actually needed proof that this was a stupid train wreck of an idea, all they need to do is take a good look at this outfit.

I mean seriously, not only did they force a terrible costume on a pair of tributes that might have actually have a semi-decent shot at winning the games before the parade. But they did so without actually thinking about how hard it actually is to represent something as abstract as twins. And while I do have to give the stylists that got saddled with this outfit credit for trying their best, they did make it so Isabelle and Bijou sort of look like they MIGHT be distantly related, as long as you don't spend too much time looking at them. I can't help but wonder what amazing outfit they had to scrap so they could put out this piece of shit instead.

Oh well, on to District Two I guess…

"Up next we have District Two's own Elysium Katsaros and her partner Bacchus Jaguar. Both of whom appear to be dressed as some sort of sword and shield wielding rams.

"Ok, so I normally try to stay as even-handed and objective as I can when describing parade costumes to all of you as I'd hate to think that my bias influenced who you support in any way. But I don't think I can do that this time.

"I mean seriously, I love this outfit. Not only does it capture the beauty of the sign Aries, on which it's based with the whole ram setup, but it also manages to capture District Two's marital history with the swords, spears, and shields the tributes are holding. Making this as true a masterpiece of an outfit as I've ever had the privilege of seeing."

I'm almost positive that this is going to end up being the highlight of my night as far as parade costumes go. Which has the dual effect of making me super-duper sad and super-duper-uber desperate for a stupidly stiff drink and some soft jazz music…

"And of course right on the heels of our District Two Aries, we have the ultra mighty Capricorns of District Three. Ms. Iridessa Parks and Mr. Joss Stellan.

"OK, so this is another outfit that I like a lot more than I really should. I mean, the very idea of a goat with a fishtail is absolutely absurd, but the beautifully seamless way that Joss and Iridessa's stylists managed to transition from goat fur to fish scales is fairly impressive. Add in the fact that the outfit stands out like no one's business, and that both tributes seem to be having a good time showing off for the crowd, and you've got yourself an pretty cool looking outfit that is both truly memorable, and oh so much more impressive than the sum of its parts."

I can't believe I managed to finish saying that without choking on the words. I mean seriously, that might be the single stupidest costume I've ever had the displeasure of laying my eyes on. The fact that it's a true representation of the zodiac sign it represents, and that it's not even close to being the worst outfit I've seen so far, doesn't mean it's not atrocious.

God, I hope the District Four Pisces is good. I don't know what I'll do if it's anywhere near as bad as the Capricorn was…

"Next up we have District Four, which is represented by the seductively deadly Pearl Caspian and her oh so attractive partner Sandor Torrent. And if I'm not mistaking, which I think we all know is next to impossible, the two of them are dressed up as Pisces.

"Now this is truly incredible. It would have been easy to just throw the two of them into a fish costume and call it good, but it looks like the District Four stylists took a different route with these azure scale covered jackets and the sapphire encrusted fishtail headpieces.

"It's obvious what it is the two of them are supposed to represent, but it's flashy and cool enough to be ultra memorable in a parade that's been full of good outfits and still have eight more to go. Both of which help to make this outfit truly perfect. At least in my eyes."

Finally! A "normal" looking outfit. I know it's going to be an outlier by the time everything is said and done. But damn if it wasn't the perfect outfit that just happened to come at the perfect spot in this hot mess of a parade.

"Next up we have Nira Valli and Cliff Roseo, who hail from District Five, also known as the power plant of Panem, and appear to be dressed up as Aquariuses.

"Now as I'm sure everyone already knows, Aquarius is the astrological sign that is also known as the water bearer, and this is, in my opinion, one hell of a great way to connect that particular title to the all-important industry that District Five provides.

"I mean seriously, if there's a more fitting way to represent the title of water bearer than to have the two of them decked out in black sequin bodysuits and pouring pitchers full of water over a miniature water turbine, which is producing the power that's lighting up the twinkling bulbs on their outfits, I don't want to know what it is…"

Ok, even I have to admit that was a pretty great outfit. Especially since the zodiac member, it represents is super lousy and unimaginative.

"Next up we have the District that responsible for keeping us all connected and making this great big old world seem just a bit smaller than it actually is, the one and only District Six. And this year, District Six is blessed to be represented by Ms. Reid Stitchell and Mr. Axel Bishop, who appear to have lucked out and drawn the Sagittarius as their outfit.

"Now I'm not entirely sold on this outfit. I mean it's obvious that the stylists tried their best with what they had, but both of the horse bottoms are obviously fake. Add in the fact that neither Reid or Axel seems to seamlessly transition from human torso to horse lower body, and you've got yourself an outfit that probably looked good when it was on the drawing board, but came out looking like nothing less than an absolute train wreck."

I wish I didn't have to say that. I mean the outfit is absolutely atrocious don't get me wrong, but that doesn't mean I need to say as much on national t.v. The fact that it's still not as bad as the Capricorn was, only serves to reinforce just how bad that outfit really was.

"But enough about that, it's time for us to move on to bigger, better, and in my humble opinion cuter things. And who better to help us do that then District Seven's own Leo's, Ms. Julie van Vigne and Mr. Ives Dusket?

"OK, as I'm sure you all know by now, I am by no means a soft touch. I hate just about everything and can count the number of times I've actually thought something was cute on one hand and still have a couple of fingers left over. So when I say this outfit is not just cute, but downright adorable, you know that I'm not kidding.

"Because seriously, how could anyone not fall in love with Julie, who's been dressed up as a cute and feisty little lion cub who seems hell-bent on finding a way to hide inside of the mane of her papa lion, who's being played perfectly by Ives, who has managed to master the slightly annoyed but entertained look that I'm almost positive every parent in Panem has had on their face on more occasions then they care to admit, in no time at all."

Oh, those two are so adorable together it almost hurts my heart to think about the fact that at least one of them, most likely Julie, is going to be as dead as dead can be in a little less than a week…

Oh well, on to the next one…

"Next up we have the District Eight, also known as Panem's Bread Basket, which is being championed this year by the dynamic duo of Annalee Tack and Kylon Warwick.

"Ok, so if I remember my astrology correctly, which of course I do, it's me, Kylon and Annalee are dressed up as Libras. Which would be why the two of them are standing on either side of that massive scale in the middle of their chariot.

"So this is another really well thought out and put together outfit, and it appears that the stylists went for a very literal balance between these two. That's why Kylon is dressed as a golden warrior in full battle gear with his weapons and trophies of war on his side of the scale, while Annalee is dressed all in white with a laurel wreath on her head and a small mountain of pure white peace lilies on her half of the scale."

Another decent costume has come and gone and I'm finally starting to wonder if the bad costumes from District's Three and Five might not end up being real outliers instead of a sign of things to come.

I mean, I know that in the end, only time will tell if that's going to be the case, but I'm not going to let that stop me, let alone my playfully overactive and slightly inebriated imagination, from wondering about it all the same…

"And hot on the heels of our super amazing Libras we have the mighty Cancer Crabs from District Nine. The ultra adorable Saralee Spelt, and her partner, the ruggedly handsome and refined Quills Danelhayr.

"Now this is another outfit, much like the Sagittarius's and the Capricorns from earlier, that had a very good chance of turning out bad, yet somehow managed to turn out amazing.

"I mean, I know I've already declared that Julie and her partner Ives had the cutest outfit in this year's parade, but this one might end up being a super close second. Just look at how cute and adorably awkward little Saralee looks as a baby crab. And don't get me started on how fierce and protective Quills looks as he plays up his role as her daddy crab!"

Ugh. If anyone of the last three outfits is even half as cute as this one is, I might not be able to drink tonight. Because if I do, I might end up eradicating, or at the very least compromising, my memory of all of the cuteness I've been exposed to tonight…

"Our next pair of happy tributes, Piper Anneliese Lark and Mazeem Law, is brought to us courtesy of the rough and tumble plains of District Ten. And true to their title as the livestock capital of the world, Piper and Mazeem have been chosen to represent what I believe is the greatest of all the zodiac signs, the mighty Taurus.

"And even though there really isn't a whole lot for me to say about this particular outfit. It's a fairly simple and straightforward pair of bipedal bull costumes being worn by two understandably overwhelmed but still visibly happy looking tributes, I still think this is easily a top three or four outfit in a year that's been chock-full of impressive outfits."

Ok, so I guess that outfit could have been done better. I mean, it wouldn't have killed the stylists to give Piper and Mazeem some swords, or better yet a pair of bullwhips, so they could play fight a little. Which I'm almost positive would have helped the two of them relax a little, which in turn would have helped them appear to be having fun with what is supposed to be one of the most fun and important nights of their young lives…

"So, now that we've put our cattle out to pasture, I think it's a great time for us to turn our attention a bit to the southeast, where we'll find the self-proclaimed cornucopia of Panem, the one and only District Eleven!

"Of course District Eleven is being represented this year by the ultra-competitive and mysterious Lexy Bloom, and her equally unreadable partner Euonymus Flax. Both of whom appear to be dressed up as Virgoans for this year's parade.

"Now as I'm sure all of you already know, Virgo, which is the singular way of saying Virgoans, is the astrological sign most closely associated with virginity as well as the Earth and Wheat. So it's understandable that the stylists would dress the tributes in long, flowing, snow-white gowns and decorating their earthen brown colored chariot with all sorts of fruits and vegetables, which I assume are meant to be a District specific substitute for the wheat the sign is normally associated with.

"Either way this is a very nice, almost mesmerizing looking outfit and I can't help but applaud the stylists, not to mention the tributes, for finding a way to pull off such a difficult sign in such a spectacular and beautiful way."

I can't for the life of me figure out why they didn't give this particular sign to District Nine, seeing as it's the wheat-growing capital of the universe and what not. But that doesn't change the fact that Lexy and Euonymus, not to mention their incredibly dedicated and talented stylists, found a way to pull off an outfit that they had no business whatsoever pulling off. The fact that they did so while also tying it to District Eleven in an honestly believable way, only makes their accomplishment that much more impressive than it already was…

"And of course last, but most certainly not least, we have District Twelves own Ms. Cora Arrowood and Mr. Ash Colton, who as I'm sure everyone has already guessed, have drawn the task of representing the decently mighty and ultra-dangerous Scorpio!

"And I have to say, the way they and their stylists decided to do so is nothing short of amazing.

"I mean seriously, and I know I say this a hell of a lot more than I really should. But if there's a better way to represent this sign then by turning your tributes into scorpion/human hybrids, with full scorpion bodies, complete with legs and blood-soaked stinger tails, that gradually transition into more human looking torsos covered in coal-black chitin, and end with totally human-looking heads. Then I don't want to know what it is. Because this is as close to perfect as perfect has any right to be.

"A true masterpiece for us to close out the parade with."

What can I say about this that I haven't already?

It's perfect. And I have zero problem, none whatsoever, in telling anyone and everyone that will listen to me that it is.

"Well, that concludes my broadcast for tonight.

"Please stay tuned for the President's opening address to the Tributes, and don't forget to tune back in tomorrow night as we finally reveal the opening betting lines for this year's Games before the head trainer and I break down the first day of training.

"And as always, I and everyone else here at Panem One hopes that you and everyone you love has a happy and safe Hunger Games. And may the odds be ever in your favor!"

* * *

 **A/N: OK, so this ended up being harder to write than it looked like it would be when I was mapping it out on paper, but I hope the parade was as good as the ones from my other stories have been. I mean, I know it might have been a little less eventful then some of my earlier ones, and the costumes are a lot less outlandish, but I think it turned out well all things considered, and I hope everyone that reads it likes it as much as I do. But enough about that, it's time to talk about the FUTURE!**

 **So, as I'm pretty sure have mentioned before, I'm going to be doing 6 training chapters with a a morning and afternoon split for each of the 3 days, with 4 tributes per chapter. All 24 tributes will get their own training POV, and most will probably be involved in a few other POV's as well, so I hope everyone is as ready as I am for some honest to god interaction between these 24 amazing characters.**

 **After that we'll move into the individual sessions, which I still haven't decided on a format for. And then the individual score reveals, which will look a lot like this only with tribute scores instead of parade costumes. Before finally hitting the interviews, which I'm also still trying to settle on a format for. All of which combines together to mean that we're not only finally about to start in on all of the interactions and actions with training, but we're also only 9 or 10 chapters away from the start of the Games! So if you're going to start getting pumped up, this is the time to do so!** **:D**


	24. Playing with Fire(T Day 1 Part 1)

**Joss Stellan-16 (D3M)**

I can't believe that I slept through my alarm today. I mean I understand how I slept through it. Only getting fifteen or so minutes of sleep over a two day period can make it very easy for someone to do so. But I can't understand why Quanta or Sagitarria didn't come in and wake me up when they realized that I was still sleeping. I mean, it's kind of their job to do that kind of stuff. Or at least I thought it was anyway.

Not that any of that matters at this point, at least not in the grand scheme of things. I mean, it's not like it really matters whose fault it is that I'm late or anything. Especially since I'm the only one that's going to get in any sort of trouble for it and what not...

But I'll have plenty of time to brood over how unfair life is, not to mention how much I hate Quanta and Sagitarria for letting me sleep in in the first place, after training is over for today. You know, as long as I manage to survive whatever incredibly creative punishment I end up getting for being late that is.

And so, it's with that in mind, and after spending a minute or so trying to collect myself and NOT to hyperventilate at the thought of just how embarrassing all of this is going to be. That I finally force myself to wave my still trembling hand over the sensor that controls one of the smaller doors a few feet to the side of the main granite double doors. And walk inside the training room with my head held high and what I hope is a confident smile plastered on my worried looking face.

Unfortunately, it takes all of maybe a second and a half for what little confidence I had to disappear. Because no sooner have I stepped into the room, I find myself slamming headfirst into the gut of a six-foot-tall wall of muscle who's currently scolding a second, slightly smaller and less well-defined wall of muscle. Who very quickly realizes who I am and tries to use my sudden appearance to distract from whatever ass chewing it was he was in the middle of getting...

"Well, would you look at this Tal. It looks like our little latecomer has finally decided to grace us with his presence."

"I can see that Apollo. What I still can't see is the training station I told you to go and man…"

"That's because it's on the other side of the room, sir."

"Then why are you over here? Are you looking for a place to move it to?"

"No, sir.

"I just figured that I had a few minutes to kill until the rest of the tributes finished running the obstacle course and started trickling out to the stations."

"You do.

"But seeing as you also know that I fully expect you to use that time to make sure your station is ready for your tributes. I can't for the life of me figure out why you're all the way over here instead of over there."

"I'm sorry, sir."

"I don't want your apology Apollo. I want you to stop screwing around and do your job before I have to fire your ass.

"Now get out of here. I need to bring Mr. Stellan up to speed and I can't do that with you standing here."

I have no idea what mess it is that I just stepped into the middle of, but I know for a fact that I do not like it. Not one bit.

"Sorry about that Joss. Apollo an amazing combat trainer but he can be a bit of a space cadet. And as a result, I have to set him straight from time to time."

"That's um...That's fine. Sir."

"Good.

"So, you mind telling me why you were so late to my training session?"

"I uh...I overslept."

"That's one hell of an understatement. Do you have any idea what time it is or just how late you really are?"

"Not really. No."

"I didn't think so. Because if you did, the odds are pretty good that you would have lied to me and said you were sick or something instead of telling the truth.

"And while I do applaud you for not lying, I'm still going to have to have a sit down with your mentor and escort at the end of the day. Even if you were "just" a half an hour late."

"I was a half an hour late?!"

"As I said, we can talk about that at the end of the day when we sit down with your escort and mentor.

"Right now, I need to go over today's schedule, get you up to speed on all the important stuff that you missed, and then get you run through the obstacle course, which is today's compulsory exercise, as quickly as I can.

"So I hope you're ready to spend the next few minutes running around like a chicken with your head cut off. Because that's what the experience is going to feel like by the time we're done."

"That's just great.

"And on a completely unrelated note, do you think you could remind me to ask Quanta to wake me up when she gets up from now on?

"You know, since you'll be talking to the both of us later anyway."

"I suppose so.

"I mean it's far too little too late to save you today. But it just might save you from making the same stupid mistake again in the future."

"That's all I can ask for at this point. Right?"

"Right."

"Well, then I guess that will have to do.

"So...Is this a good time and place for us to start covering all the stuff I missed or did you want to take me somewhere else..?"

* * *

 **Isabelle Price-18 (D1F)**

You know, I really hate to admit this. Especially since it's not something any self-respecting career should ever even think, let alone admit. But a small part of me was kinda hoping that the obstacle course would end up taking a slightly longer time for everyone to finish running then it actually did.

Which isn't to say I thought it would be difficult to run, because I could tell by looking at it that wasn't going to be the case. But I did think, or maybe the more appropriate words for this would be hope and pray, that it would take someone, like one of the younger and weaker outer district tributes, a decent chunk of time to finish running.

But it didn't. And now, instead of standing over there by the course and waiting "patiently" for everyone who's still running the course to finish up. I'm standing over here by the exotic weapons training station, waiting anxiously for the rest of my allies, or more specifically the four I really need to talk to, to get their butts over here so that I can do the one thing I'd really rather not have to do. Even if I do understand, and even sort of agree with, the logic behind doing it.

"So, is this where we're supposed to meet up or were you trying to avoid us, Isabelle?"

"I guess it is the meeting place, yes. And for the record Sandor, I'm not now, nor will I ever, be trying to avoid you or the others."

At least not really…

"I didn't think so. I mean seriously, who in their right mind would actually want to avoid being around me?"

My god, this guy is a cocky ass. I mean he's not the cockiest person I've ever dealt with, that title still belongs to me "devoted" fiancé Princeton. But Sandor is, as of right now, an unexpectedly close and competitive second on that list.

"Hey, Bacchus! Pearl! She's over here!"

It takes Bacchus and Pearl all of about five seconds to walk over to where Sandor and I are currently standing. It feels like it takes forever, but the logical part of me knows that's just my anxiety talking as it took them literally no time at all to make the short walk from where they were to where we are now. And once they've joined us, I force myself to bury the last of my inhibitions and reservations about what I'm about to do, and set my mind towards the task of actually doing it.

"I'm glad you guys are finally here. I've got an idea, or maybe it's more of a plan, I'm not one hundred percent sure on which word better fits it. But regardless, I've got something alliance related that I wanted to run by everyone before we get started with training."

"If this is about the alliance, doesn't that mean we should wait for Bijou and Tartarus to get here before talking about it?

"I mean, it's not like we can't just catch them up later if need be. But it seems to me like it would be a waste of time for us to cover something twice when we can wait for a few minutes for the others to join us and then only have to cover it once."

Well, here goes nothing…

"OK, first off, her name is Elysium, not Tartarus. I know she may prefer not to be called by that name, but it is her name and I think we should use it.

"Now, under normal circumstance, we wait for the others to join us, Bacchus. But seeing as it's Bijou and Elysium that I wanted to talk to you guys about in the first place. I think it would be a good idea for us to just hurry up and talk so that they don't know we were talking about them."

"Hold on a second. What do you mean by "it's Bijou and Elysium that I wanted to talk to you guys about in the first place?"

"Isn't it obvious Pearl?

"She means that she wants to talk to us about whether or not we agree with her that they don't belong in the alliance with us.

"That is what you were driving at. Wasn't it Isabelle?"

"It was, Sandor.

"I mean, I'm sure that both of them are really nice people and all that. But I'm not sure that either of them is capable of being the kind of asset they would need to be in order to be in the career alliance. At least, not after what happened to both of them during their Reaping.

"In fact, their reaping performances make me pretty sure that the two of them would be, at best, no help, and at worst, an outright detriment, to our alliance and its ability to max out the amount of sponsor money and support we can get for ourselves heading into the Games."

I can tell that some of the things I just said caught the others a bit off-guard, or at the very least it caught Pearl and Bacchus off-guard, I can't tell if it did Sandor or not. And at the end of the day, it's not like it really matters one way or the other.

I mean, the three of them are either going to agree with me and we're going to kick Bijou and Elysium and to the curb, where I happen to think they belong. Or they're not and I'm going to be left on the outside looking in on my own freaking alliance.

The fact that a part of me is honestly ok, not to mention already sort of prepared, for any of the three of those eventualities to come to pass, only helps to make this otherwise very uncomfortable and awkward situation, a bit less in my face stressful then it would have been otherwise.

Of course, that doesn't mean I'm not super anxious for one of these guys to finish digesting everything I've said, and say something in response…

"You know something, Isabelle, you make a pretty convincing argument. I hate to admit it, especially since I have a huge issue with the idea of kicking Bijou and Elysium out of our alliance before giving them a chance to prove they belong, but your argument is surprisingly sound and logical."

"Does that mean I have your support, Sandor?"

"I guess it does...As long as Pearl and Bacchus are on board that is..."

* * *

 **Sandor Torrent-16 (D4M)**

"Fair enough.

"So, how about you Pearl? Are you on board with the plan or not?"

"If you want me to answer that honestly, which I'm going to assume that you do, I have to say that I don't really like the premises of the plan. I don't think it's fair that you singled Bijou and Elysium out for increased scrutiny based on solely on your opinion of how sponsors "MIGHT" view them, and I don't think that it's fair to use what was possibly the most stressful five minutes of their lives as a justification for tossing them out of an alliance before you actually know what they can do.

"But, even with all of that being said, and despite my very real reservation and strong belief that this has just as much chance of blowing up in all of our faces as not. I'm going to vote with you and Sandor to kick them out of the alliance."

Is she...Is she being serious right now? Like, seriously serious?

"Are you sure Pearl? I mean, once we start down this road, we can never go back. If we kick Bijou and Elysium out of the alliance, we can't double back later and say it was all a joke."

"I get that Bacchus. And while I'm disgusted at the thought of kicking them out over something so small and unimportant, I'm not nearly disgusted enough to turn my back on my district partner like Isabelle is."

What the hell Pearl. You were supposed to be the smart and compassionate one in the group. You know, the one who gave me, and by extension you as well, the excuse we so desperately needed to avoid having to mix ourselves up in this whole mess in the first place.

"Fantastic, that's three votes in favor of kicking them out of the alliance with one vote still to be counted.

"So, how about it Bacchus? Are you going to make this a clean sweep and side with us, or are you going to side with the weak links?"

I hate to admit this, especially since I know how important what we're talking about is, at least in theory, but I don't even bother to listen to Bacchus's answer. I mean I do try, but after about fifteen or so seconds of him stumbling and bumbling over his words. In what I can only assume is a lame attempt to make it sound like he's struggling with his decision, even though we all know how he's going to vote the same was Pearl and I did. Before he finally manages to get around to mumbling out a somewhat intelligible answer in favor of going along with whatever it is the rest of us decide to do.

"Fantastic. It looks like we're all in favor of doing this. That means our next move needs to be telling them that we've…"

"Bijou and Elysium."

"Excuse me?"

"There names are Bijou and Elysium. If you're going to kick them out of the alliance the least you can do is say their names while you're doing it, Isabelle."

"If that's how you want in, Pearl."

"It is."

"Fine then.

"I think our next move needs to be telling Bijou and Elysium that we've decided to kick them out of the alliance. And since the vote was unanimous in favor of doing so, I think it would be best for all four of us to do this together. Make sure that all of the other tributes know that, even if it seems like our alliance is in a state of chaos at first glance, it's still the strongest and most unified one in the business.

"Don't you agree, Sandor?"

Why in the heck is she asking me this? I mean, is she looking to me in the hopes that I'll go ahead and confirm the decisions she's already made? Or is she genuinely asking for my advice on a question that she needs a bit of help answering? And more importantly, why is she just asking me instead of asking all three of us?

"I um...I guess you're right."

"Good. So I think I saw them playing around over by the archer station a bit ago. So I guess that's as good a place as any for us to start looking for them…"

"What about replacing them though? Do we have a plan for that yet?"

Holly crap, was that Bacchus? And did he just ask a good and logical question?

"What do you mean Bacchus?"

"Well, you've come up with a plan to kick Bijou and Elysium, but you haven't said what we're going to do after.

"Are we going to just roll the dice and try to make do with just the four of us in the alliance? Or did you have a plan to replace the two of them with one or two of the other tributes?"

You, I hate to admit this, even if it is just to myself, but I honestly never thought of replacing Bijou and Tartarus, who I will refer to by whatever name I damn well please, until Bacchus brought it up. I mean I probably should have, but for some strange reason, I didn't. Which is something that, at least for now, I'm going to chalk up to my expectation that Isabelle, who seems to have thought of everything else so far, would have thought of it already.

"He makes a good point you know.

"I mean, we might be able to make do with just the four of us, but it couldn't hurt to test the waters on a few of the more attractive and competent looking outer district tributes either."

I can tell by the look on her face that Isabelle, like me, never really stopped to consider this until it was brought up. But now that both Bacchus and Pearl seem to have thrown in with the whole look for a replacement or two from an outer district idea, and I'm about five seconds from chiming in with my support for it, it's starting to look like that's the way we're going to go regardless. I just hope Isabelle doesn't waste any time trying to come up with a way to make this idea, which is clearly one hundred percent Bacchus's at this point, seem like it was hers, to begin with.

"If you guys really think that we NEED to invite another tribute or two into the alliance, then that's fine with me. Did any of you guys have an idea on who specifically you'd like to invite, or did you want to just play it by ear and see if any of the others happen to catch our eye?"

Well, I think this is my cue to step in…

"I actually do have a couple of suggestions on that front.

"But since we've already wasted a bunch of time standing around talking as it is, I'd be more than happy to cover who I think might make a solid addition to our alliance, while we're trying to track down Bijou and Elysium…"

* * *

 **Piper Anneliese Lark-16 (D10F)**

"Don't you want to know what they're talking about though, Piper?"

"To be perfectly honest with you Maze, I could honestly care less."

"How can you stand there and say something like that with a straight face?"

"It's pretty easy when you legitimately don't give a damn about what's going on."

I can't for the life of me understand why it's so hard for Maze to understand why I'm not interested in what's going on with the careers. I mean, I understand why HE might be interested in finding out what's going on. Especially since one of the careers, I can't tell which one it is or even if it's a boy or a girl from where I'm standing right now, has been screaming at a couple of the others off and on for the better part of the last fifteen minutes. But I just can't seem to muster up the effort to care like that.

I mean, I enjoy a good old-fashioned back and forth just as much as everyone else does, don't get me wrong on that. I just learned a long time ago that there's no advantage, none whatsoever, in inserting myself into the middle of an argument that has nothing to do with, nor any sort of real measurable effect, on me or what I need to do. The fact that I'm also pretty sure that inserting myself into the middle of this particular argument would be, at best, a huge waste of my time, and at worst the kind of stupid thing that could make me a target of the careers once we get into the arena, just makes it that much easier for me to ignore it.

Now, if I could just get Maze to shut up about it, or baring that at least stop beating around the bush and walk over there and gawk at the argument, which is what the majority of our peers are doing, I might finally be able to put this crap behind me and focus on my training. I mean seriously, I've been standing here trying to master this hidden knife technique for the last half an hour, and I'm no closer to figuring it out now then I was when I started.

And so, despite what is now a nearly constant stream of muffled screams emanating from the holographic combat station just a few feet away, and the attention-seeking gaze of my district partner, who has just about worn out his welcome with me, I turn my attention back towards the small trio of knives that I had previously picked out to try this exercise with. From there, I quickly slide each of the knives out of their original sheath and set them aside, before quickly slipping on the wristband that came with the knives and slipping two of them into the marked places on either side of the band, before deftly palming the third and final knife and making my way down towards the row of training dummies lined up near the back side of the station.

"OK, you stupid thing. I'm either going to master this trick and cut you to ribbons, or I'm going to screw up and hack you to pieces on principle. Either way, it's time for you to meet your maker…"

I spend the next little while trying my hardest to figure out how this stupid knife trick is supposed to work. But after fifteen or so minutes of trying, and failing miserably, to master what was supposed to be a simple trick, I decide to give it up and move on to something else.

After all, just because I can't seem to find a way to master the more subtle and deadly arts of the small and easily concealable knives, doesn't mean I won't be able to master the kind of knives that can sever limbs and rip holes in a sternum big enough for me to fit my head inside of. Especially since I've been using a cleaver, which in my experience is nothing more than a big knife anyway, to butcher the cattle we raise on our ranch back in Ten since I was like six or seven years old.

I just hope they have something that looks, feels, and more importantly handles, somewhat like a cleaver does, hidden somewhere in the mess of knives they've given us to train with.

Unfortunately, it looks like my search for the perfect knife is going to have to wait for a minute or two. Because no sooner have I finished sheathing the three smaller knives from earlier and started back towards where the trainer is sitting near the front of the station, then I'm being approached by a pair of very impressed and interested looking female tributes.

"That was pretty impressive, for a beginner."

"What makes you think I'm a beginner?"

"Oh, nothing in particular. I mean, you did keep switching up your grip because the one you were told to use didn't feel right. But other than that…"

"I get your point.

"Now, was there something the two of you needed or..?"

"Oh, where are our manners?

"My name is Isabelle and this is my ally, Pearl. She's from District Four and I'm from District One."

"I know who both of you are and where you're from, Isabelle. What I don't know is why the three of us are talking in the first place.

"I mean, don't the two of you have some sort of career thing you should be doing right now?"

"That's actually what Isabelle and I were hoping to talk to you about."

"What do you mean?"

"Yes, Pearl. Whatever did you mean by that?"

"What I meant, is that Isabelle and I have a...Proposition. One that's directly related to that "career thing" you mentioned, that we'd like to discuss with you."

I'm not...I'm not sure what kind of game these two are trying to play here. But I know that I'm intrigued by it.

I mean, I've got a pretty good idea of what it is they want to talk to me about. And even if my hunch is way off base, which I'm almost positive it's not, it's not like I have all that much to lose by giving these two a few minutes of my time so they can run by me whatever it is they came all the way over here to talk to me about.

Of course, that's not going to stop me from asking a few more questions before I agree to do so. You know, just to be safe and to keep up appearances and whatnot...

"And just what, pray tell, could two careers like you possibly have to discuss with someone like me?"

"See, I told you she was smart, Isabelle."

Who in the hell is that now?

"What's more, I'm now almost positive that she'd make the perfect addition to our alliance. Provided the two of you ever get around to formally inviting her to join that is."

"Would you stop butting in like that Sandor? I told you that Pearl and I would handle this."

"I know you did."

"So then why are you here instead of trying to find us a replacement for Bijou?"

"Because we've already found one.

"But we can't approach him an offer until we clear it with the rest of the alliance. And we can't do that until you and Pearl stop dragging your feet and formally invite Piper. Who, newsflash, will need to be brought up to speed on what we've been doing before we can vote on anything new.

"Provided she decides to join us that is."

I can't believe what I'm hearing. I mean, I always kind of thought that I was talented enough to be a career. I just never dreamed that I'd have the chance to actually be one. At least, not in the full alliance, pre-game sort of way that I might have the chance to be now…

"Is that what you wanted to talk to me about Pearl? You wanted to float the idea of me joining the career alliance?"

"Well, yes."

"And now that she's done so, and Isabelle and I have made it abundantly clear that we're all in favor of the idea as well. What do you say, Piper?

"Are you ready to be a part of the most storied and important alliance in Hunger Games history?"

What kind of stupid question is that? I mean, he doesn't honestly expect me, or really anyone with half a brain for that matter, would honestly be stupid enough to turn him down on this, does he?

I mean, there's probably a good list of reasons why I should turn them down, including the fight they had earlier that everyone and their dog heard and knows about, but I just can't bring myself to do so. Not when joining up with them gives me a real chance of winning the Games and making it back home to my family...

"I would be honored to join the careers, Pearl. Thank you for the invite."

"Fantastic. Welcome to the team, Piper."

* * *

 **A/N: So, how's that for a first day twist? Two of the careers, Bijou and Tartarus are out. And in their place we have Piper and a mystery man who will be revealed in the next chapter. But I'm curious to see who everyone thinks they're going to invite, so let me know what you think in the comment section :)**

 **Also, as always, please let me know what you thought of the chapter as a whole, and I'll be looking for all of your happy and smiling faces in a few days when I post the second half of training day 1!**


	25. Getting Burned(T Day 1 Part 2)

**Tartarus Katsaros-17 (D2F)**

"How can you not be mad about this Bijou?

"I mean seriously. They may not have screwed you over as bad as they did me. But that doesn't change the fact that they still screwed you over worse than damn near anyone else in the long, sad history of being screwed over."

"I get that, Tartarus. Believe it or not, I actually do."

"Then why in the hell aren't you just as mad as I am about what they just did to us?!"

"Because I know for a fact that nothing good can possibly come from me getting as pissed off about it as you seem to think I should, Tartarus.

"Am I mad about all of this? Of course, I am. I'd have to be as big a wimp and a pushover as Isabelle and the others said I was to not be upset about this.

"But I also understand that the only thing my getting as mad about what happened can possibly accomplish is to knock me off my game at a time when I just can't afford to not be locked in."

I just don't get this kid sometimes. Which really doesn't bode well for the potential longevity of our still officially unofficial little alliance.

I mean, it's not so much that he's said something that doesn't make complete and total sense, even if it is only in a strange and pseudo-logical sort of way. Or that he's said something I don't agree with, at least on a logical level. So much as it's the fact that he's able to stay so logical and composed during one of the few times when it would have been perfectly acceptable, if not outright expected, for someone his age to respond in a completely illogical and emotional way.

Seriously, it's one thing for him to be mature enough that he can just let all of the small stuff that happens to him roll right off his back and move on with his life without slowing down. Hell, if I'm being completely honest with myself, that's a downright inspiring and commendable thing for someone his age to be able to do. But that doesn't make the fact that he's also able to do it now. Again, when the situation all but demands that he not do so. Any less… unnatural and unnerving than it already was.

"Look, Tartarus.

"I understand that you probably don't agree with my stance on this. And in all reality, I honestly don't think that I can say that I actually expected you too in the first place.

"I'm an incredibly passive, go with the flow type of person, and I'm very comfortable with that. It's who I've always been, and I see no reason to change that just because I'm now a Hunger Games tribute and I'm expected to be more forceful."

I hate to admit this, even if it is in private and just to myself, but I have to applaud him for that last statement. Especially since it was my decision to take that same kind of stance, back when I insisted that everyone treat me like the brave young man I am instead of the gender confused little girl who's been living in a fantasy world that they think I am, that got me kicked out of the career alliance in the first pla… Wholly shit...

It's in this moment, while the majority of my brain is running in at least a thousand different directions; and the small part that's dedicated to staying sane and on task is trying to absorb and process everything else that's going on around me, that I finally manage to realize just how right about all of this crap Bijou has actually been.

I mean, being pissed off about what the careers did to me, and to a lesser extent Bijou, hasn't helped me accomplish a damn thing. And it never will. At least not as long as we're all still outside of the arena that is.

"You know something Bijou. You might have just said the single most important thing that I've ever heard someone say in my entire life. And it took me an embarrassing amount of time to realize that you had said it in the first place."

"That's um… That's ok Tartarus. I'm just glad that you were finally able to come around and realize the importance of what I said."

"You don't have the slightest idea what it is that you said that was so important. Do you?"

"Not really. No.

"But I was hoping that if I sounded confident enough you wouldn't call me out on it and I could spend the next little while trying to figure it out."

"I'll tell you what. Why don't the two of us continue this conversation over at the shelter building station?"

"Why there? If you don't mind me asking."

"Because it's one of the few stations where we can train while also holding a non-training related conversation."

"Does this mean you're going to make me try and figure out what I said instead of just telling me like a normal person would?"

"Hey, it's my job as your ally to make sure your brain is just as sharp as the rest of you is before I have to start trusting all of you with my life.

"Don't you agree?"

"See, you phrased that like it was a question that could have more than one answer. But I think we both know it was actually a statement of fact and all you really want me to do is nod my head in agreement so we can move on."

"I would never… What in the world gave you that idea Bijou?"

"Oh, nothing in particular. Why don't we just call it an educated guess and move on before I talk myself into a corner that I can't wiggle out of."

"Only if you promise me you'll continue to drop priceless little nuggets of wisdom like the one from earlier every chance you get."

"So this is a negotiation now is it?"

"I guess it is."

"Fine then.

"I'll agree to your request, as long as you promise me that I won't have to spend the entire time we're supposed to be learning how to build a shelter, trying to figure out what the first little "nugget of wisdom" I dropped was.

"Deal?"

"You know something, Bijou. I believe that can be arranged.

"But we won't know for sure until we get over there and start building and talking."

"Well in that case, what in the hell are we waiting for Tartarus?!"

* * *

 **Axel Bishop-16 (D6M)**

I can't for the life of me figure out where Reid and those three little girls she was hanging out with ran off too. I mean, one second the four of them were standing here with me trying to figure out which of these plants, nuts, and berries are safe to eat and which ones aren't. And the next they're gone. Leaving me all alone with a mountain of stuff that still needs to be sorted through, and no real idea how or where to even begin doing so.

Which I guess means I now have two mysteries on my hands that need to be solved...

"Looks like your "friends" flaked out on you man."

Ok, so I'm not proud to admit this, but that statement actually caught me off guard enough that I jumped. I mean, I was so engrossed in trying to figure out where Reid, Dessa, Julie, and Saralee ran off too, not to mention how they managed to slip away without me seeing or hearing them leaving, that I really wasn't paying attention to what was going on around me. Which is what allowed whoever it is that's talking to me to sneak up on me and scare the crap out of me like this.

"Sorry about that. I didn't mean to scare you like that."

"It's not big deal..?"

"Oh, where are my manners?

"My name is Bacchus. Bacchus Jaguar."

"Axel Bishop."

I offer him my hand in greeting. You know, like a well-mannered young man should when he's introducing himself to someone he's never met. And after a second or two of hesitation, Bacchus finally realizes what it is I'm waiting for, which I just assumed would be obvious, and sticks his hand out there for me to shake.

"So, is there something I can do for you, Bacchus? Or are you just wandering around trying to get to know as many people as you can before the end of the day like everyone else seems to be?"

"Is that… is that what we're supposed to be doing right now? Why didn't anyone tell me that?"

OK, so I know that's a lame joke. In fact, it might be the lamest joke I've ever heard, and considering how often the people I hang out with back in Six tell lame jokes, that really is saying something. But that's not going to stop me from laughing at it all the same. I mean seriously, if you can't take a few seconds out of your day to laugh at a bad joke every now and then, I don't know what you're doing with your life.

The key phrases there, of course, are a few seconds, and every now and then. And seeing as I've now successfully laughed at Bacchus's bad joke, which really is the polite thing to do, it's time for me to figure out why he's here so I can get back to the tasks at hand. You know, trying to figure out how Reid, Dessa, Julie, and Saralee just disappeared into thin air; as well as what in the world I'm supposed to do with that small mountain of potentially deadly plants, nuts, and berries.

"That was a good one Bacchus. It really was."

"No, it really wasn't. But I do appreciate your willingness to lie and tell me that it was Axel."

"What makes you think I'm lying?"

"Call it intuition. I've got kind of a sixth sense when it comes to things like this and it's been right a hell of a lot more often than it's been wrong."

Man, this guy REALLY needs to learn how to just take a freaking compliment and move on. I mean seriously, I don't think I've ever met someone who's as averse to taking a compliment as he is in my entire life. And again, considering the kind of people I used to hang out with back in Six, that really is saying something.

But I can worry about this later. You know, if I get bored and don't have anything more important or interesting to do with my time…

"Fair enough.

"So, I don't mean to seem rude or anything. But…"

"What in the hell do I want from you?"

"Yeah.

"I mean, it's not that I don't appreciate having someone to stand here and shoot the breeze with. But time is sort of a precious commodity right now and I really can't afford to waste any of it."

"Neither can I Axel. So if it's ok with you, I'm just going to go ahead and skip the soft sell thing the others wanted me to use and just get right to the point."

OK, now I'm intrigued. I'm also confused as hell. But I'm probably a bit more intrigued then I am confused.

"I'm a pretty simple dude, Bacchus. So I have no problem at all with you doing that."

"Alright then.

"The reason I'm over here is to invite you to join the career alliance. Are you interested?"

"You're… You're here to do what now?"

"I said that I'm here to invite you to join the career alliance.

"We had a falling out this morning with a couple of the guys that would normally be in the alliance, which means we now have a couple of open spots that we need to fill. And as luck would have it, you're one of the lucky few that we're willing to let join"

I can't… I can't believe he just said that. I mean, the odds of a regular old guy from Six like me being invited to join the career alliance are so astronomical I never even dared to think about dreaming it could happen. And now it is…

This has to be a dream. Or at the very least another one of Bacchus's "bad" jokes. I mean, it just has to be.

"You're not… You're not serious about this. Are you?"

"Of course I am Axel. I mean, do you really think I would be wasting my time standing over here talking to you if I wasn't?"

He's got me there.

"I guess not.

"But that doesn't explain why you'd want to invite someone like me to join your alliance. I mean, there have to be at least two or three other tributes here in the room that are more qualified than I am."

"Maybe. But we're not interested in inviting them to join us. We're interested in inviting you.

"As long as you're ready to man up and take you place as District Six's first REAL career that is."

* * *

 **Ash Colton-18 (D12M)**

I can't believe I'm about to say this, but I wish Cora would go back to talking about how awesome and beautiful she thinks the Capitol is. Because as annoying as that was, and was it was annoying, it was so much better than listing to her complain about the way the career alliance decided to replace the two tributes they kicked out this morning.

"All I'm saying is that inviting Piper and Axel to join their alliance without seeing what the rest of us have to offer sort of defeats the purpose of the Career Alliance. Which is to make sure the six or so best tributes end up on the same team long enough to eliminate the competition and make sure one of them ends up coming out on top.

"Don't you agree, Ash?"

Oh for the love of, how many more times is she going to ask me that question?

I mean, I guess I could tell her what I really think, which is that she's wasting her time worrying about this stupid crap when she would be preparing herself for the Games. I could also tell her the truth, which is a combination of my first answer with the added fact that the career district mentors are the ones that told them what to do in the first place and the tributes are just following orders.

But I'm not going to. Because at this point, after seven or so hours of this crap, I'm almost positive that Cora doesn't actually care about the truth, so much as she just wants someone, in this case me, to agree with her. Which, for the sake of ending this conversation, is exactly what I'm going to do.

"I don't get it either Cora. I guess this is just one of those crazy things in life that defies all logic and reason."

"You don't have to be a patronizing ass hole, Ash. I was just asking a simple question that I thought you might have an answer too."

Oh for the love of… What does this girl want from me? I mean seriously, she's been annoying the crap out of me all day I haven't said a thing about it. But I take a tone with her once, and she has the nerve to accuse me of being patronizing?!

"I wasn't trying to sound patronizing, Cora. That's just how I sound when someone is trying to talk to me about stuff that I'm just not interested in talking about."

"How can you not care about this stuff Ash?

"I mean, I get that you have issues with the career alliance as a whole because of what they did to your big brother during his games. And I understand why you feel that way.

"But that doesn't…"

"That might be the single stupidest thing you've said today, Cora. And considering some of the mind-numbingly stupid shit I've heard you say so far today, that's saying something.

"And for the record, you have no idea how I feel about the careers. And I highly doubt that you ever will."

OK, even I think that was a super rude and unnecessary thing to say, even if it's true. And I'm the one that said it in the first place.

"I wasn't trying to imply that I knew how you felt, Ash. Just that I understood WHY you felt the way you did about them. And I think you knew that."

"You're right, Cora. I did understand that, at least at some level, and I apologize for saying that the way that I did."

"But not for saying it in the first place?"

"No.

"I mean, I am sorry for the tone I took and for the vulgar language I used. But that doesn't change the fact that some of what I said, especially the second part, was true.

"And I'm not going to apologize for telling you, or anyone else for that matter, the truth just because I said it in an unnecessarily mean and derogatory way."

The next minute and a half, while Cora stares at me with a look that I can only describe as equal parts disbelief and understanding, is one of the longest of my entire life. But then, I feel my spirits lift ever so slightly as she smiles at me instead of rolling her eyes and walking away like almost anyone else in the entire world would have.

"I can respect that. As long as you promise me that you'll choose your words more carefully the next time you feel like you need to explode on me for a semi-good but mostly unnecessary reason.

"Deal?"

I honestly can't believe that she's letting me off this easily. I mean, I expected her to get to this point by the time everything was said and done. But I just sort of assumed that it would take us a couple of rounds of give and take on both sides for us to do so.

"I guess I can agree to that. As long as you're willing to promise me that you won't bring my brother up again like that. And that you'll find someone, really anyone, else in the entire world to talk about the greatness of the Capitol or complain about the career alliance to.

"Deal?"

I never get a verbal answer to my counter offer. Because within seconds of me asking her, my ears are treated to the soft and rhythmic chiming of the bell that I'm pretty sure is supposed to signal that our first day of training has come to an end.

So, instead, she simply offers me a happy and playful looking smile, which I can only hope is her way of saying yes to me without actually saying the word, before racing past me in the general direction of the main exit. Stopping just long enough to look back over her shoulder for a second and offer up an impromptu little challenge.

"Race you to the elevators, Ash!"

* * *

 **Julie van Vigne-12 (D7F)**

I'm sort of sad that training is over for today. I mean, I did miss spending time with Ives, James, and Johanna. And I'm looking forward to telling them all about the super cool and fun stuff that I got to try today. But I'm still sad that I can't bring the three new friends I made today with me.

I mean, I don't really understand why it would be such a big deal for Reid, Dessa, and Saralee to come over and play with me in my room for a little while. We could even have a sleepover like the ones I had with my mom and little sister Ryna back at home. I would even invite the people who are in charge of making sure we're good to come over too if that would make it so they could come. But I know that it won't.

No, the people in charge of us just don't want us to have any fun when we're supposed to be training for the Hungry Games. And while I guess I can sort of understand why they made the rules in the first place, and why they're so stingy with making us follow them. I don't understand why they can't just meet the four of us and make a ception like my mom and grandma do back at home.

I mean, I know that I'll see them all again in the morning. But I really don't want to have to wait that long to play with them again either. Specially since I really want to play and Johanna won't let Ives play with me anymore. I guess I could play with James, but he's not very good at playing and I don't think he enjoys it as much as I do.

He does try, but I don't think that he… what was I thinking about? Was it dinner? I think it was dinner. Or at least I hope it was dinner. Because my tummy is growling super duper loud and I don't think I can wait much longer for food. I mean, I'm so hungry right now that I could eat a whole elephant. And I've never even seen a real one of those so I have no idea how much food I'm saying I'm hungry enough to eat.

"Julie, are you finished changing out of your training clothes yet?"

Is that what I was supposed to be doing? I must have gotten distracted thinking about that elephant everyone is talking about.

"Not yet James!"

"Well hurry it up, slowpoke. Your dinner is getting cold!"

Did he say dinner?! I hope we're having elephant tonight. Because someone, I forget who, told me that it's the best food in the entire world and that they only serve it in the Capitol so I'll have to try it before I go home in a couple of weeks. And I'd hate to go home before I have a chance to try the best food in the entire world...

* * *

 **A/N: Hello everyone, I haven't seen any of your smiling faces since last year! Where have you all been ;) lol**

 **Ok, now that I've got my obligatory bad pun out of the way, I'd like to apologize for taking so long with this update. The holidays kind if got in the way and then I was back in school for the spring semester, and I just sort of forgot to publish this for about a week or so. But it's here now and I hope it was worth the wait.**

 **Also, on a quick side note, I understand that identifying who's speaking during conversations can be an issue at times. I'm doing my best to fix that, but it's sort of hard to thread that needle in a first person point of view story without changing the POV style. So I'll do what I can, I just ask for a little patience as I try a few new things that will hopefully fix the issue moving forward.**

 **But enough about that, I'm more interested in hearing what everyone thinks of the chapter, as well as the new and "improved" career alliance? Do you think they'll be better off with Piper and Axel, or do you think they made a mistake kicking Tartarus and Bijou out? I want to know that, as well as what you thought of the chapter as a whole, so please feel free to drop me a review and let me know! And I'll be looking forward to seeing all of your happy faces at the next update :D**


	26. Eye of the Inferno(T Day 2 Part 1)

**Mazeem Law-14 (D10M)**

If there's one real drawback to being a Hunger Games tribute. You know, besides having to put up with the throng of Capitol admirers who insist on getting to know you as a person before watching you bleed out in the arena thing. It's that I have to spend so much of my already limited time living it up in the Capitol on a bunch of stupid little shit that I don't care about.

I mean seriously, between my early morning sit down with James to discuss strategy for the day. My after training sit down with Wren and my stylist to talk about interview crap. And Sparkle's insistence that I eat at the same time as everyone else and be in bed by no later than nine o'clock, unless Wren or James need to go over something with me that can't be put off until the next day. Damn near every free second of my day has been totally monopolized by Hunger Games shit. And don't even get me started on how much of my non-free time I waste in a day.

For example, I've been down here in the training center since about seven-thirty this morning, which is an absolutely ungodly early hour in my book, because that was the time training is supposed to start. And in the two and a half hours since then, the only things of worth I've done with my time is laugh at some of the other tributes as they tried, and mostly failed, to make it through the water obstacle course, and quickly run through said course myself.

That's it. In two and a half hours of "training," I've spent a grand total of fifty minutes doing something that's sort of related to training. With about forty-five minutes of that being spent laughing at that fact that most of my peers are hilariously bad at swimming, and another five or so running through the course.

The other hundred or so minutes of my day has been spent sitting around and waiting for someone to come and tell us what to do. Which was is turned followed by even more sitting around and waiting as the trainers explained what they wanted us to do at least a dozen times because a few of my peers, like that ditzy little air-head from Seven, couldn't seem to understand how they were supposed to do things like "swim under or over a log" or "scale this wall while trying to avoid the random buckets of water we're going to be dropping on your head."

Which, as I probably should have expected, ended up leading to even more sitting around and waiting while one of the trainers ran through the course himself so that everyone could see how we were supposed to do everything.

Not that any of that actually helped mind you. But at least it's done and over with. I've ran the course, had a good laugh or two at just how hilariously inept and uncomfortable most of my so-called peers are in the water, which I make a mental note to file away for later on the off-chance it ends up being useful, and I can finally spend the next little while doing whatever in the hell I want.

The only problem with that is, I don't have the slightest idea what it is that I actually want to spend my daily dose of free time doing. I mean, do I want to run away and find a nice, quiet corner to sit down and fall asleep in? Do I want to head over to the shelter building station and continue working on the lean-to I started yesterday after Piper abandoned me for the careers? Do I want to spend some time working on traps? Do I want to head over to the fire starting station and try to start a fire that's big enough to burn this whole place to the ground?

I just don't know. And for some incredibly stupid but somehow entirely logical and understandable reason, that bothers the ever-loving hell out of me like you would not believe.

"Excuse me, but are you... are you OK?"

OK, so at this point, it's pretty safe to say I'm entirely too caught up in trying to figure out what I want to do today to bother paying attention to anyone or anything that's going on around me. So when my ears first pick up that super soft and singsongy sounding question that's being thrown my way from somewhere behind me, I'm not ashamed to admit that it catches me just a wee bit off-guard. What I am ashamed to admit is that it also caused me to jump and let out a soft but still easily hearable yelp of surprise.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you."

"You didn't scare me. You just surprised me is all."

"It sure looked like I scared you."

"Well, you didn't. I don't get scared by stupid little kids like you."

"That was mean and uncalled for. And I do have a name you know."

"I'm sure you do. But seeing as I don't know it, I'm just going to go ahead and refer to you as the annoying little kid who won't leave me the hell alone."

"Oh, sorry about that. My name is Iridessa. But you can call me Dessa if you want. Everyone else does."

"Fine then, your name is Dessa. Congratulations.

"However, my knowing your name still doesn't explain why in the hell you're bothering me right now?"

"Wow, you are being so mean right now that it's not even funny."

"And you're being annoying right now."

"All I did was ask you if you were OK. How is that being annoying?"

For the love of...this girl just will not take a hint. What do I have to do, make her cry so she'll leave me alone? Can she not see how busy I am right now?

"Look, Dessa, I don't have the time or the patience to explain this to you. So you're just going to have to trust me when I say that walking around and talking to people who have no interest in talking to you, is a super annoying thing to do."

"Fine then.

"Like I said, I was just checking on you because my friends and I noticed that you looked a little sad and we wanted to make sure everything was OK."

"Well, it is, Dessa. So if you don't mind…"

She doesn't give me a chance to finish my statement before rolling her eyes in disbelief and running past me and off in the general direction of a trio of other girls who I can only assume are the friends she mentioned a few seconds ago. Not that I actually care about that or anything. At least not at this specific point in time anyway.

No, the only thing I care about right now is finding something to do with the rest of my day before I lose my mind because of how much time I'm wasting. And as luck would have it, my little back and forth with Dessa did help me settle on a training station for now, and a plan of attack for the rest of the day.

I'm just glad I don't have to thank her or anything. Because as crazy as it may be for me to admit, I've already met and surpassed my daily recommended dose of vitamin stupid...

* * *

 **Iridessa Parks-14 (D3F)**

I didn't think it was possible, and looking back now in hindsight I'm kind of embarrassed to admit that, but I think I might have actually just met someone who I honestly do not like. And I honestly don't know how I'm supposed to respond to that.

Sure, everyone, I know back in Three told me this day was bound to come. That it was only a matter of time before I, even with my uncanny abilities to find common ground with anyone and to turn even the most hostile and standoffish of enemies into friends as long as I'm willing to put in a little bit of effort, finally ran into someone who I honestly just can't stand to be around. But I never really thought it would actually happen.

And while that doesn't mean I've never run across someone who just didn't like me for whatever reason. Because I have, and the list of kids who use to pick on me in school for one dumb reason or another will confirm that fact. It does mean that running into someone who I don't like is a new experience for me. And as embarrassing as this is to admit, it's also one that I've really never put much time or effort into trying to figuring out how to deal with either. Because I honestly never expected that I would have to deal with it.

So as a result, I'm just sitting here at the lunch table with what I'm almost positive is a stupid look on my face, mindlessly swirling my spoon around in my still full bowl of tomato soup, trying to figure everything out while sort of listing to Julie and Saralee argue quietly about what we should go and do after lunch in the background.

At least that's what I'm doing until Reid walks up behind me and puts her hand down on my shoulder and squeeze it anyway. After that, I spend a couple of seconds trying to collect myself. Which is when I realize that the argument I've been listening to between Julie and Saralee has been relocated to a table a few feet away from the one I'm sitting at. Before turning my head and acknowledging Reid a fraction of a second before she slides down on the bench next to me and quickly steals my still uneaten lunch right out from under my nose.

"So. Are you going to tell me what happened with that boy earlier or do I have to guess?"

"What makes you think something happened?"

"You mean besides the fact that you almost never stop talking normally but for some reason haven't said more than two words to anyone since you came back from talking to him?"

"Yeah. Besides that."

"Hmmm… Are you sure you want an answer to this Dessa? I mean, really?"

I'm not… I'm not sure what kind of game Reid is playing here. I mean, is she really trying to convince me not to try to get to the bottom of her uncanny ability to read me better than even my parents can read me? Or is this just her quirky little way of trying to lighten the mood and take my mind off of whatever it is that's bothering me?

"Hello?

"Is anyone home?

"Earth to Dessa?"

OK then. I guess that answers that question for me.

"Yes, I'm still here, Reid.

"I was just trying to decide if I really wanted you to answer my question is all."

"I see…

"And what did you decide? If you don't mind me asking."

"Are you sure you want me to answer that question, Reid? I mean, are you really sure?"

"Am I… OH. I see what you did there Dessa."

I decide to play dumb here and offer up what I think is a cute but knowing smile in response. Before shrugging my shoulders and asking Reid what she means in what might well be the cutest tone of voice I've ever used.

"I'm not sure what you're talking about Reid. What is it that I've done that you see?"

"Do you really want to play this game with me, Dessa? Because I should warn you, I'm very, very good at it."

I don't respond to her question with words. Because at this point there's really no need for us to rely on such a clumsy and easily misunderstood form of communication. Instead, I simply roll my eyes and stick my tongue out at her before spinning around and running off in the general direction of Julie and Saralee's table with a super wide and excited smile on my face. Leaving all of my previous discomfort and sadness sitting in an invisible pile next to my now empty soup bowl.

* * *

 **Bijou Devon-17 (D1M)**

"So, Tartarus, have you had the chance to think about that thing we talked about earlier yet?"

"I was wondering when you were going to get back to this. And I have to say, I'm fairly impressed that you waited as long as you did. You know, seeing as you said it was the single most important thing in the entire world because it's super-duper time sensitive and all that."

"OK, for the record, I never said it was the single most important thing in the entire world. Nor did the words super or duper, or any combination of them, ever come out of my mouth."

"It was implied by your body language and tone of voice."

"Which one?"

"Both of them obviously."

At this point, I'm not entirely sure if Tartarus's is being serious about this, or if he's just trying to make a joke and failing miserably because of his anti-joke personality. I mean I'm pretty sure that he's trying to make a joke, but with him, it really is hard to tell, so it's next to impossible for me to be one hundred percent sure about anything.

Then again, I'm also not entirely sure that I honestly care one way or the other. Because while the old, pre-Hunger Games tribute Bijou might have been put off by his inability to get a solid and consistent read on Tartarus, the only thing that Hunger Games tribute Bijou cares about is getting a straight answer to his question out of Tartarus. At least when it comes to the stupid little things that just might save his miserable life at some point in the near future.

And speaking of things that might very well save my miserable life…

"I'm glad you're having fun with this Tartarus. I really am.

"But if you could see your way to maybe taking this seriously, even if it's for just a moment, I'd really appreciate it, man."

"And what makes you think I'm not taking it seriously Bijou?"

"The fact that you're making jokes about it man.

"I mean, I appreciate a good joke just as much as the next guy, but there's a time and a place for that kind of stuff, and this isn't it."

The next few seconds are easily some of the tensest and uncomfortable of my entire life. Because as I stand there, with what I can only hope and pray is a self-assured and confident look on my face and wait for Tartarus, who's been glaring at me in a very amused but noticeably indignant manner since I stopped talking, I can't help but wonder, or maybe the right word is worry, if what I said ended up sounding even half as confident and decisive as I wanted it too.

Fortunately, at least for me and my sanity, Tartarus doesn't make me wait much longer than those few seconds before he responds. And when he does, he doesn't do it verbally, at least not at first. Instead, he simply cracks a small smile at me before rolling his eyes in mock disbelief and leaning in shattering the last vestiges of tension between the two of us with a surprisingly pointed but still playful response.

"Do you feel better now?"

"As a matter of fact, I do."

"That's good. Did you get it all out or do we need to do it again before we move on?"

"I'm pretty sure that I got it all out so we should be good to move on."

"Fantastic.

"So, do you want to re ask me your question? Or would you rather just skip all of that and just have me answer it?"

"To be honest, at this point I really don't care one way or the other, Tartarus.

"As long as I get an answer I'm fine."

"OK then.

"My answer to your question is yes. Yes, I have had a chance to think about what we talked about earlier."

"And..?"

"And I think you're right. Our alliance is never going to be taken seriously as long as it's just the two of us. At least not in the early going where being taken seriously, and as a result sponsorable, can mean the difference between having the supplies to survive for a couple of days and a couple of weeks."

"Fantastic!

"So, what are we going to do about it then?"

"Well, as you pointed out this morning, the only real option we have is to try to bring someone else into the fold and hope they end up being talented enough to move the needle.

"The only issue with that is, we've already wasted a day and a half and as a result, most of the needle movers in this years class are either already in a group of some kind, or dead set on going it alone."

"Which means we need to move quickly on this.

"That's why I brought it up with you first thing."

"True enough. And I'm sorry for taking so long to realize what you were trying to do Bijou. I really am."

"It's not a big deal Tartarus."

"It actually is though.

"Because now there are only one or two tributes left that could help us that don't already have an alliance."

"Does that… does that mean you've already decided who you want to invite in?"

"Of course it does.

"I just hope we get to him before someone else does…"

* * *

 **Annalee Tack-15 (D8F)**

"You're getting much better at this Annalee. You still have a little bit of work to do if you want to be truly good at this. But you've definitely improved a lot since yesterday."

I really wish this guy would stop saying stuff like that. I mean, I get that he's an "expert" in hand to hand combat and all that. I also understand that as a trainer it's his job to make me think I really do need to keep working on this so I don't start slacking off and get complacent.

But that doesn't mean he can't still tell me I'm doing a good job from time to time. Especially since I know for a fact that I actually am doing a good freaking job. And I've heard him offer up that kind of praise to other tributes who were actually doing a fairly shitty job.

I mean seriously. Would it really kill him to just casually say something like, "hey, Annalee, that was an impressive takedown" or "nice footwork kid" every once in a while instead of ignoring all the good in favor of harping on all of my shortcomings? Hell, even if he doesn't believe that, which he has no reason not to but that's neither here nor there, would it really be that hard for him to just suck it up for a second and lie to me about it? He's done it for everyone EXCEPT me, so there's no reason he can't do it FOR me.

Then again, we wouldn't be having this issue in the first place if he would have listened to me when I tried to tell him I'm not interested in learning how to be a standup fighter. I mean, I'm already decently good at fighting people, as long as I'm allowed to use my height and slight frame to my advantage. But Quinctius doesn't think that prancing around like a fairy taking "cheap shots" at other tributes groins is "real fighting," so he won't let me do it.

"Thank you, Quinctius. It's nice to know that I'm still making progress. Even if it doesn't feel like it sometimes."

"It's natural to feel that way, Annalee. Especially when it comes to something you have little to no prior experience with."

Yeah, yeah, yeah. Let me fight you my way and I guarantee I'll wipe that self-satisfied smirk off your stupid face in two minutes or less.

"True. But that wouldn't be the case if you'd just let me show you what I can really do."

"I thought we had already gone over that, Annalee. Why in the world are you bringing it up again like this?"

"Because I don't agree with your assessment of the value of my way of fighting, Quinctius. I think it has a lot more value for someone like me than trying to learn how to hold my own in a fist fight or a wrestling match ever will."

"That's because you still haven't fully opened your mind to the full range of possibilities yet. Once you do, you'll realize that I was right all along and that you don't need to resort to dirty tricks in order to win a fight anymore."

"I don't mean to be rude or anything, Quinctius. But I highly doubt that. I mean, dirty tricks make winning a hell of a lot easier to do, at least for me. And at the end of the day, isn't that all that really matters? Winning."

"That's an… interesting, way of looking at it. It is a bit overly simplistic, and in my opinion wrong, way of doing it. But I guess it's still valid.

"As long as you don't mind having your win tainted by your less than savory actions that it."

"Again, don't take this the wrong way or anything. But I'd much rather win dirty than die clean. But that's a personal preference I guess."

I know this discussion isn't going anywhere, and part of me really wishes I'd just drop the matter and move on with training. But there's another part of me, the part that's proud of how I was taught to fight because it works and that really is all that matters, that refuses to let me drop it and move on.

So instead of doing so, and maybe actually learning something that's both useful and fun, I guess I'll just have to keep doing what I've been doing. Standing here and learning a style of fighting I have no interest in learning because that's the only style my trainer is willing to teach me and I'm just not in the mood to force the issue. Even if I do think it would be in my best interest to do so.

"You know something, Annalee, you just might be right about that."

"Excuse me?"

"I said you might be right about that.

"After all, just because I would rather lose a fight with honor, then win it dirty, doesn't mean you have to. It's also no skin off my nose if you decide to fight dirty and lose, because I told you it was a bad idea, to begin with.

"So if you want to go ahead fight dirty, be my guest. Just don't expect me to put any of your fights you win that way in my greatest hits collection when I retire."

"I guess that's fair."

"Of course it is. After all, I am a very fair trainer.

"But enough about that. Why don't you go ahead and try to prove to me that your way of fighting actually does work? You know, back up your claims and all that."

"Is this… is this some sort of trick to get me to try to kick you in the groin so you can get kicked out of training?"

"Of course not, Annalee.

"It's a challenge, from one self-described expert to another, to prove yourself."

"I never claimed that I was an expert on this stuff though, Quinctius. Just that I had a pretty good idea of what worked for me and what didn't."

"There's no reason to try the modesty veiled backtrack plan now Annalee. Not after I've gone through all the trouble to throw down the gauntlet."

"OK then. But please remember that I tried, and don't say I didn't warn you..."

* * *

 **A/N: Hello everyone, I'M BACK! Sorry about the obnoxious delay between updates, but as I'm sure we all know too well, real life doesn't always like to line up with our hobbies as well as we'd like, and at times the fun stuff has to be pushed to the side so that the "important" stuff can rise to the front.**

 **But enough about that, we're here to talk about our 3rd of 6 training chapters, and the fact that we continue to inch, very slowly, closer to the start of the Games themselves. And it's the thought of just how amazingly awesome those Games are going to be, and just how shocking some of the more awesome twists and turns I've got planned are going to be, that helps me keep chugging along. And I hope it does for you too.**

 **Anyway, I'd love to hear what everyone thinks of the chapter, as well as just who our poor career alliance outcasts might be inviting to join them, so please don't forget to drop a comment on the story after you're done reading. And with that, I want to wish you all happy reading and to say I look forward to seeing you all again at the publication of training day 2 part 2, very soon. :D**


	27. Recruitment Drive(T Day 2 Part 2)

**Cliff Roseo-17 (D5M)**

You know, part of me is actually sort of happy, or maybe the right word is relieved, that Tartarus and Bijou picked now to come over and try to strike up a conversation with me.

I mean, they still have some pretty crappy timing, waiting until this close to the end of the day to even try to talk to me proves that. But that doesn't mean it's all bad. In fact, you might say that all of this actually worked out stupidly for me all things considered. Especially since all I really have left to work on before the Games start is combat, and I have zero desire to work on that stuff when all of my non-career peers are doing so.

You know, because even I know that trying to learn anything on a station where the trainer has to divide his or her attention into sixths is about pointless. And I'm super opposed to the idea of letting everyone else know just how stupidly awkward and uncoordinated I actually am when it comes to freestyle combat.

But thanks to the two of them, I don't have to worry about that now. And instead of trying to find a way to force myself onto one of the two or three stations I'm somewhat competent on just so I can try to squeeze a minute or two of worthwhile training out of the last half an hour of the day. I get to sit here and listen to Tartarus and Bijou as they try their damnedest to sell me on the idea of teaming up with them.

Which, as crazy as this may end up being in the end. Isn't actually coming across as being nearly as outlandishly terrible and stupid an idea as I honestly expected it too.

"So, what do you think, Cliff?"

"You know, I hate to admit this, Tartarus. But I actually do agree with the majority of what you just said.

"The part about no one in their right mind actually wanting to try to go it alone in the arena is a particularly compelling argument."

"Be careful Tartarus. He's saying all the right things now, but I'm sensing one hell of a but coming up here."

"Thanks, Bijou. I'm not sure I would have ever figured that out without your help."

"There's no need to be an ass, Tartarus.

"I mean, you're the one who asked me to stay back and try to get a read on what Cliff might be thinking."

"That's true. But I was talking about the subtle little things. Not the big stuff that anyone with half a brain could pick up on from a mile away."

This little back and forth between the two of them ends up lasting longer than it really should. I mean, at the end of the day they do manage to wrap up the actual argument portion of things in around thirty or forty seconds. But that doesn't stop them from continuing to bicker like small children for the better part of the next few minutes either.

Which, as one would expect, also prevents me from asking them the question I had been getting ready to ask when we started down this rabbit hole. You know, the one on whose answer my decision to either run for the hills or throw my lot in with the transgendered ticking time bomb and his uber quiet and effeminate looking sidekick will inevitably rest.

"Could the two of you please shut up for like five seconds so I can ask my freaking question?! Please?!"

OK, so I can tell by the look on both of their faces, which I think is a mix of anger and surprise with just a touch of embarrassment, that there might have been a better way for me to have handled that.

"I'm sorry about that. I don't normally raise my voice like that. But I…"

"You need to make sure Bijou and I heard you.

"Because you have something important to say and you need to say it now."

"Exactly."

"Well, in that case, please excuse our earlier rudeness and go ahead and say whatever it is you need to say."

"Thank you, Bijou.

"But before I start, I just want to reiterate that the two of you really did make one hell of a convincing argument."

"You've already said that, Cliff."

"I know that Bijou. But I needed to repeat it to properly set up my but statement and its follow-up question."

"Which is..?"

"Which is. I'm really not sure what's in this alliance for me?

"You did an excellent job of covering what's in this for the two of you. But you neglected to mention what's in it for me.

"I mean, the pleasure of your company is all well and good. But we all know that it's not enough to offset the stupid amount of danger being your ally would put me in."

"But that's not all you'd be getting Cliff. And you know it."

"I do?"

"Of course you do.

"In addition to our company you'd also get our in-arena protection and support; Our combat skills; Our sponsor marketability; And our general knowledge, experience, and know-how.

"I mean seriously dude, what more could you possibly ask for?"

"I think what Tartarus was trying to say there Cliff, is that this really is a fair deal as is and there's not a whole lot more we could add in to sweeten the deal."

"Exactly. So you can either take it as is, or Bijou and I will move on to our other options."

I'm not entirely convinced that last statement by Tartarus was anything more than a super terrible bluff attempt on his part. Then again, it's not like it actually matters either. Because even though I'm pretty sure that it is a bluff, and a pretty terrible one at that, it's not one that I can afford to call. Not with this much at stake.

"Well, when you put it that way. How could I possibly say no?"

* * *

 **Cora Arrowood-16 (D12F)**

I honestly can't believe how stupid and childish I've been acting for the last few days. Especially with how much is at stake.

I mean seriously. It was one thing to turn down Ash when he sort of half offered to be my ally on day one. I didn't know nearly enough about him as a person at that point to make an informed decision one way or the other. Never mind the fact he has a terrible attitude in general and major, and I do mean major, issues with authority.

But that was almost two days ago. Back when I stupidly believed that I could turn him down and still find an ally or two because of my more mature, cool, calm and collected demeanor. Which I also believed would have me beating back potential allies with a stick. Because that's just how stuff like this was supposed to work out for someone like me.

Instead, I'm sitting here in a dark corner, as far away from everyone else as I can possibly be, crying like a baby. Waiting like a moron, for the last few minutes of training day two to tick off the clock so I can run back up to my room and cry even harder than I am right now. When I know that I should be out there doing everything I can to try to convince one of the handful of unallied tributes, or even one of the smaller alliance that might be looking to expand, that I'm the one they should pick to be their new ally.

Oh for the love of … would you stop all of this whining, Cora? I mean, seriously. Why in the heck are you just sitting here, wasting valuable time by moping around like a baby and planning yourself a pity-party; when you should be out there on the training room floor trying to squeeze as much training as you possibly can out of the day as you possibly can?

So what if you don't have an ally? There are plenty of other tributes who are in the same boat and none of them are acting like a baby. Are they? No! They're out there busting their asses, trying to prove their worth to anyone watching who might be watching. They're out there proving to every ally needed individual and alliance that they're the tribute they should pick.

And they're definitely not off sulking in some corner. Bitching and moaning about what could or should have been while hoping and praying that some ally hungry tribute will notice just how worthy they are of that role despite the aura of self-loathing and regret that seems to be oozing and seeping out of their very souls. You know, like I am right now after spending the better part of the last few hours feeling sorry for myself because the Hunger Games are even harder than I thought they would be.

Ugh… I hate it when I get like this. And not just because I have a nasty habit of making myself feel like complete crap when I do. I mean that is part of it, don't get me wrong. It's just not the main part.

Because that distinction belongs to the fact that it's almost impossible for me to think straight, let alone act, when the queen-B, alpha female side of my personality is doing everything it can to overpower the more timid, safe, and insecure side of me. Especially when both sides seem to be making a rather solid and logical argument as to why I should listen to them and ignore the crap out of the other.

I spend the next little while trying, and for the most part failing in rather spectacular fashion, to get a handle on the argument that's currently raging inside of my head. In fact, I'm so engrossed in this task, as well as my soul shattering inability to succeed at it, that I'm completely and totally oblivious to the fact that someone is trying their hardest to get my attention. At least until they walk up and put their hand on my shoulder that is...

* * *

 **Nira Valli-18 (D5F)**

Part of me knows that it was incredibly impolite, if not downright rude, of me to laugh at just how surprised Cora got when I put my hand on her shoulder. And in my defense, I really did try my hardest not to laugh at her, I really did. But there was just something about the super cute and hilarious way she shot into the air like a rocket while yelping that made it impossible for me not to laugh at her just a little. And once the flood gates were open, that was all there was to it.

"Would you stop laughing at me? Please?"

"I'm sor...I'm sorry. But the way you reacted was just so adorably cute that I couldn't help myself."

"Excuse me, but there is absolutely nothing "cute" or "adorable" about jumping fifteen feet in the air and squealing at the top of your lungs like a frightened child."

"I think we're going to have to agree to disagree on that one Cora. Because from where I'm standing, your little explosion was by far the cutest thing I've seen since I got to the Capital."

I can tell that my last statement caught Cora a bit off-guard. And to be perfectly honest, I can't for the life of me figure out why I even said it in the first place. Even if it is one hundred percent true and one hundred percent what I was thinking and wanted to say at that exact moment

Fortunately, at least for me and my quickly frazzling nerves, Cora really doesn't seem all that sure how she's supposed to respond to what I said. Which means that I'll have a little extra time, if I need it, to come up with a solid excuse to mask the stupidity of my answer.

"You know Nira. I'm not sure how in the world I'm supposed to respond to that. And to be perfectly honest, I really don't care either."

"You um...You don't?"

"Of course not.

"I mean, I can't for the life of me figure out how you could possibly think what I did was cute. I honestly can't.

"But I'm really not in the mood to seriously question you about it either."

"Well, that's good. Because to be completely honest, my answer to that question is not only super lame, it's also sort of embarrassing."

"But that means that you do have an answer then? Right?"

Shit!

"I walked right into that one didn't I?"

"Kind of."

"I don't suppose I could convince you to forget that I said that? Could I?"

"Probably not.

"I mean you could just stand there stoically and refuse to answer until time runs out and we have to go our separate ways for the day.

"But I don't think that you will."

"And why is that?"

"Because you didn't spend all that time tracking me down just so you could try to scare me.

"You had a real reason for coming over here, and you want to tell me what that was. But the only way I'll let you is if you tell me what I want to know."

"Oh, you are...You are so evil, Cora."

"I'm not evil, Nira. I'm just a lot better at getting what I want than most people realize.

"And speaking of getting what I want...Are you going to tell me how you could possibly think what I did was cute? Or are we just going to stand here and stare silently at each other for the next four minutes?"

I really can't believe this. I mean seriously, how in the heck did I let myself get backed into this situation so easily? More importantly, how did I not see it coming from a mile away the second Cora decided to "give up" without even trying to put up a fight?

"Hello. Are you going to answer me, Nira? Or is this you letting me know you've decided to go with the silent treatment route instead?"

"Oh, I'm going to answer you, Cora. I'm just … trying to figure out the best way to word this is all."

"Well, you'd better hurry up and figure it out. Because if you don't…"

"The reason I was able to find what you did cute is that I already thought you were cute to begin with."

"You um … you think I'm cute?"

"Of course I do. Anyone with half a brain would think that, Cora."

"I'm a … I'm flattered, Nira. Thank you."

"You're welcome.

"Of course, as you so rightly pointed out before, my thinking you're cute isn't what brought me over here. Or at the very least, not the only thing that did."

"Of … Of course, it's not.

"You obviously had something more important that you wanted to say or ask me before all of this happened."

"You're right, I did.

"Of course I never expected it to be half this hard or for it take anywhere near this long for me to ask you my question. Nor did I intend to scare you. So I feel like I should apologize for that before I do anything else."

"You don't need to apologize for anything, Nira."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive."

"OK then.

"So, what I wanted to ask you, before all of this started and we got lost in the sauce talking about how cute you are when you jump and yelp, is if you'd be interested in being my ally in the arena?"

It takes me all of maybe a half of a half of a second to realize that I absolutely floored Cora with that question. And considering everything I've already thrown at her in such a short time, I'm really not all that surprised that I did floor her.

"I mean not only are you super easy on the eyes, which is a bigger deal for me then it probably should be. You're also the only competent and relatively normal tribute left who doesn't already have an ally…

"Ok, that came out super wrong and I apologize for that. What I meant to say was…"

I never get a chance to finish what I was saying. Because in the blink of an eye Cora closes the half a foot or so of space between us and throws her arms around me. Pulling me into a very warm and welcoming hug and causing my words to shrivel up and die on my lips.

"Nira. I've already told you that you don't need to apologize for or explain anything to me.

"And I would be honored to be your ally.

"Also, and I probably should have said this earlier instead of waiting until the last possible minute. I think you're cute too, Nira."

I don't … I don't know what to say now. And fortunately, I don't have to know what to say. Because within seconds of Cora saying what she said, the ear-splitting crash of a gong starts to ring out from every corner of the room, signaling that the days training has ended and it's time for us to head back to our suites.

"Looks like it's time for us to go. I'll see you tomorrow. Partner."

* * *

 **Reid Stitchell-16 (D6F)**

If I've learned anything over the last couple of days, it's that right now is by far my favorite part of the day. The hustle and bustle of training, or anything else Game related, is behind me. While my daily sit down with Zefram, which doesn't happen until after we eat dinner, is still far enough away that I really don't have to think or worry about it yet. Which means that I get to spend the next little while doing whatever it is that I want.

And today, that means I'm going to lock myself in my room, lay down on my bed, and let my mind wander wherever in the heck it pleases. If I spend the entire time thinking about home and wondering what my friend Leven and my family are up to, then so be it. It's not likely, but it could happen. And if it does, then it does.

Of course, there is a more likely and logical outcome out there. One that involves me doing one of the two or three things in the entire world that I actually enjoy doing. Instead of wasting my time thinking about a bunch of people who never really understood me, and a district that I'll never lay my eyes on again. And it involves me trying to guess what the arena is going to look like so I can start trying to figure out which, if any, of my experiments I might get the chance to try out.

I mean, if there's fire or lava or something like that I might get to see how a body reacts to the extreme heat and water deprivation. If we're in a colder arena I might have the chance to see how hypothermia and frostbite work as well as how long a person can survive being exposed to the elemental extremes.

If it's more temperate and has water, like the arena last year, I might finally get to see how a body reacts to drowning. Things like how long it takes for the bubbles to stop and how long after they stop the person finally dies, are the kinds of questions I've been waiting for years to have answered. And if things go my way, I might get lucky and find an answer before I die myself.

OH! Another cool arena, though not as cool or useful as some of the others I've been dreaming up, would be one with lots of mountains and hills. Don't get me wrong, it would be all sorts of cool to see just how differently the same fall might affect Dessa, Julie, and Saralee. But it wouldn't be nearly as informative as being able to drown one of them while watching another one burn alive.

Not that any of that, especially my personal preferences, matters right now mind you. Because as long as I don't know what kind of arena we're going to be in, I have to do my best to prepare for any and all possible eventualities. And that's exactly what I'm going to do. Just as soon as I get back up to my room and can do so in relative privacy.

Provided this stupid elevator ever gets done dropping off the first load of tributes and comes back down to pick the rest of us up that is...

* * *

 **A/N: Well, it took a little longer then I'd planned, but day 2 is now officially in the books. And as promised, a lot big things happened inside of a very short period of time. And I can't wait to hear what everyone thinks of them. And seeing as I really don't have anything else to talk about right now, I'm sure we're all tired of seeing me apologize for being wildly unpredictable and slower than a turtle in mud with my updates, so I'll skip that this time and just say I hope everyone is still having as much fun reading this story as I'm having writing it, and that I look forward to seeing all of your happy and smiling faces next time, when we get the ball rolling on our third and final day of training! :D**


	28. Regret(T Day 3 Part 1)

**Ives Dusket-18 (D7M)**

"How long have you been shadowing her Ives?"

"Does it really matter at this point, Johanna? Like, seriously?"

"Of course it matters. Now answer the freaking question before I lose my temper."

"Fine.

"If I had to guess, I'd say I've spent somewhere between three-quarters of a day to just a little over a full day. Give or take a minute or two here or there."

"You wasted an entire day worth of training on that hopeless little shit?!"

"Give or take."

"I can't… I can't believe what I'm hearing.

"And more importantly, I can't believe you were actually stupid enough to waste so much of your time on Julie.

"I mean seriously, did I not go out of my way to make it crystal clear that I didn't want you to even think about her? Let alone waste so much as a millisecond of your already stupidly short and precious amount of training time trying to help her?"

"Of course you did.

"In fact, if I'm being honest with you, that may well be the only training or game related piece of advise that you've given me that has been crystal clear."

"Then why in the hell didn't you listen to me, Ives?!

"And more importantly, what in the world made you think that following Julie and her friends around was a effective use of your time?!"

OK, so this is the point in this conversation where I know I should fire back at Johanna with a super strong and biting denial that I had been shadowing Julie at all. Explain to her that, instead of "shadowing" Julie, in direct violation of her earlier order, I was simply putting in some much-needed work on my sneaking abilities. The extended honing of which will greatly improve my chances of becoming our district's first winner in nearly thirty years. The fact that I just happened to be stalking Julie and her new friends when Johanna decided to drop in and see how things were going, was nothing more than a super hilariously and stupidly unlikely coincidence.

But that's not what I'm going to do. And not just because I know for a fact that Johanna has the ability to smell a lie coming from a mile away,

"I asked you a question, Ives."

"I know you did, Johanna. But I don't have an answer for you. Or at the very least, I don't have one that you're going to like."

"Then why don't you go ahead and give me your best bad one so I can hurry up and finish being pissed at you before one of the trainers comes over here and throws me out of the training center?"

"Fine. But before I start, I think it's important for me to reiterate that I wasn't trying to shadow Julie and her allies. I was trying to shadow Julie, who just happened to be hanging out with other people.

"And the main reason I've been doing that is because she doesn't deserve this crap, Johanna. She just… She just doesn't."

"No one "deserves" this crap, Ives. Not even you do."

"I know that. But Julie deserves it even less then I or anyone else does.

" She's an innocent little twelve-year-old who's about to be covered in meat and blood and tossed into the waiting maw of a pack of hungry wolves.

"She's going to die, Johanna. And there's nothing I can do about that. So the least I can do is make sure her last few days are as decent as they can possibly be. And the easiest way for me to do that is to make sure no one, not even her allies, has the chance to screw with or take advantage of her between now and the start of the Games."

"Fair enough.

"I think you're being incredibly stupid and naïve, not to mention short-sighted and self-destructive, but that's your decision to make."

"You're right, Johanna, it is."

"OK then. I guess that's that.

"But before I go, I do have one little tidbit of advice for you. If you'll permit me to share it."

At this point, I'm not sure I actually want to hear anything else Johanna has to say. But for the sake of civility, and because there's still a decent chance I'm going to need her help at some point during the Games, I decide to give her a small and wordless nod of consent before internally bracing myself for the ass chewing I'm sure is heading my way.

"I get that you're a naturally good and caring person, Ives. I really do. But those kinds of emotions have no place in the world you're living in right now. And if you don't find a way to separate the man you want to be, from the monster you need to be, you're going to get yourself killed."

"I know that, Johanna. And when push comes to shove, I'll be more than willing to unleash the monster hiding within so he can do the hard, ugly things that need to be done if I'm going to survive."

"Really?"

"Yes.

"But until that time comes, I'm going to do as many good and decent things as I possibly can so that I can live with myself once all of this is done and over with. And there's not a damn thing you can do or say about it.

"Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to get back to training. After all, there are, as you seem to enjoy pointing out, quite a few things I could stand to work on while I still have the chance to do so…"

* * *

 **Saralee Spelt-12 (D9F)**

The more time I spend hanging around with Reid the less convinced I am that she's playing with a full box of crayons. I mean, there's nothing specific about her or how she acts that's wrong or off-putting, she's actually been by far the nicest, friendliest, and most understanding person I've met since being reaped. In fact, there have been a couple of times over the last few days when I've felt like she was being too nice and understanding.

I mean, I appreciate the fact that Reid seems to be super willing to go out of her way to help me adjust to all of this. I really do. But there's just something about her, never mind her overly eager and helpful attitude and unrelenting need to relate to me and everything I've been through in my life, that gives me a queasy feeling in the pit of my stomach. And if there's one thing in life I've learned, it's to always give my gut feeling the benefit of the doubt.

I just wish my gut could be a wee bit more specific about just what it is about Reid that I'm not supposed to trust.

"Is something wrong Saralee?"

"Huh?!"

"I asked if something was wrong."

"Of… Of course not.

"Why would you think something was wrong, Dessa?"

"Well, for starters, you've got the same annoyed look on your face that Julie gets after Reid tells her she has to keep her clothes on until the end of the training day."

"Oh, I most certainly do not have that look on my face! You take that back right now!"

"Sorry, but I can't do that. It would make me a liar."

"No, it wouldn't. Telling me that I have the same angrily confused look on my face as Julie is what made you a liar. Admitting that I don't would just confirm it."

"A, yes it would. Because try as you might there's no way I'm ever going to forget seeing that look on your face. And B, even if I was lying, which I'm not, I'd have to be pretty stupid to actually admit that's what I was doing."

You know, it's not often that I have to admit this, but Dessa is a completely different person in reality then I thought she was based on my first impression. I mean, she's still the same super chatty, and at times slightly annoying, ditz little ball of untapped energy that refuses to sit still that I pegged her as the first time I saw her. And I highly doubt that will ever change. But after spending the last two days and some change getting to know her a bit better, I've realized that she's not early as socially stunted and awkward as her home district lead me to believe she was.

Which also means, unfortunately, I'm currently going one for three in the whole my first impressions of my allies being right thing. Which is an unimaginably bad, not to mention highly unusual and stupidly unlikely, percentage for me to be hitting. I mean, until I met Dessa and Reid, and to a lesser extent Julie, I actually thought I was pretty good at figuring people out based almost solely on my initial gut reaction to them.

"You know, there are parts of Panem where dropping an argument like ours out of the blue for no real reason and with no explanation is a sign that you give up."

"Huh?"

"I said…"

"Oh I heard what you said and that's not what this is at all.

"I was just…"

"Lost in your own thoughts for a moment?"

"Exactly. How did you know?"

"Well, you had that same look on your face from before so I just assumed…"

"I can guarantee you that I never had that look on my face. Heck, I'm not sure I could make that face if I tried too. Let alone by accident."

"Oh, you can. Trust me.

"But for the sake of argument, why don't we just agree to disagree on this and move on?"

"Well, I'm not normally the kind of person who backs down when I know I'm right. But since you asked so nicely, I guess I can make an exception. Just this once."

I'm not sure how I managed to keep a straight face while saying all of that, but I did. The fact that it only lasted a fraction of a second after I was done talking and had to look Dessa in the eyes to see how she reacted to what I said is neither here nor there.

"You know, you almost had me there. If you could have held that giggle in for just a couple more seconds…"

"I know! I'll have to work on that for later."

"Of course you will.

"So, do you want to talk about what's bothering you? Or would you rather just drop it and go see if Julie has finally gotten the hang of that blowgun?"

"Well, I really don't want to talk about this. Partly because I'm not exactly sure how to go about doing so and partly because it's entirely too late for doing so to do any good."

"Fair enough.

"So, do you want to race to the blowgun station?"

I know a challenge when I hear one, so instead of wasting precious seconds by standing there to answer Dessa's question. I decide to spin around like a top before rocketing off in the general direction of the blowgun station. Slowing down just long enough to look over my shoulder and shout back.

"Was that a serious question..?"

* * *

 **Lexy Bloom-17 (D11F)**

I don't think I'm ever going to get the hang of these stupid throwing knives. I've spent at least half of the last three days trying to master this crap and I'm no closer now to being good at it then I was when I started.

Sure I've gotten a bit better at hitting the target, even if it is just the stationary one, but I'm still light years away from turning the throwing knife into a viable tool for my in-game arsenal. I mean seriously, I can count the number of times one of my throws would have done any sort of real or noticeable damage to a real person on one hand and still have four fingers and a thumb left over.

"I think you're starting to get the hang of it Lexy. That last throw was your best one yet."

"Why? Because this is the first time the knife sank in deep enough not to fall out after a couple of seconds or because this is the first time my throw landed somewhere that might actually hurt the poor sap on the other end of the knife?"

"Well, um, both actually.

"I mean, considering how much trouble you were having when you started, being able to hit the target in a manner that can do some actual damage really is a fairly impressive improvement. Especially since you haven't dedicated every second of your free time to learning how to do it."

"That's because I'd lose my freaking mind if I did.

"I'm not used to failing at anything, no matter how new or hard it is. So as I'm sure you can imagine, I've felt the need to bookend my continued failure at this with some much-needed successes in other areas."

I don't know why I felt the need to tell the instructor that. Especially since he A, doesn't care, and B, it's more than likely his fault that I'm having so much trouble with learning how to throw this stupid knife in the first place. I mean seriously, I know for a fact that I'm more than talented enough to pick this up. So the only logical reason for me to explain my struggles is by assuming that my trainer is incompetent.

Of course, I'm not nearly mean enough to say that to his face. I may be putting off that super bitchy ice queen aura more often the not right now, but not even that version of me is mean enough to attack one of the two or three people in the Capitol who has actually gone out of their way to be nice and help me. Even if it has been all for not because of his lack of skill and teaching ability.

So, instead of insulting the kind but obviously senile old man like the angry little voice in the back of my head is screaming at me to do, I simply offer him a kindish looking smile before mumbling a thank you for his help and making a beeline out of the area and in what, god willing, is the general direction of the hopefully unoccupied edible plants station.

Which, fortunately for me, it is. The right direction that is. The station itself is currently occupied by my oh so polite and grounded, yet somehow stupidly annoying, district partner Euonymus. Who's currently so engrossed in trying to separate the edible inner bark from a piece of birch wood that he doesn't seem to notice anything else going on around him.

So, this is where I try to hurry up and decide if I want to slip away and look for another station, or if I want to roll the dice on sharing this station, which I know fairly well already and only decided to come and work on because I need the ego bump that crushing it will undoubtedly provide me with, with the person who keeps asking me to be his ally. Despite the fact that I've gone out of my way to make it as clear as I possibly can that I don't think he's a good enough tribute to be my ally.

Or at least that's what I keep telling myself every time I start to second guess whether or not I should have taken him up on his most recent offer that is.

Unfortunately, I'm not quick enough. And before I have the chance to fully settle on one course of action or the other, Euonymus has looked up from his now thoroughly mangled and potentially inedible mess of bark and made eye contact. Forcing me to stay put and listen to whatever it is he's about to say despite my reservations.

"Hey there, Lexy. You looking for me?"

"Why would I be looking for you, Euonymus?"

"Well, I thought maybe you had finally come around and decided to be my ally. Which would mean you were looking for me because you wanted to tell me the good news before someone else had the chance to steal me away."

"Oh for the love of… we've gone over this already Euonymus. I'm just not interested in carrying you through the games.

"Look, you're OK as a person, you really are. But try as you might, I just don't see you as a serious threat to win the Hunger Games or to help me do so. And at the end of the day, that's the only thing I'm looking for in an ally.

"Which is sort of why I'm still solo at what can only be described as the eleventh hour of our training."

"Fair enough. Though, you can't blame a guy for trying. Right?"

Oh for the love of, why does he have to be so freaking understanding all of the time? I mean seriously, does he not get that it would be so much easier for me to keep turning him down like this if he would just stop being the good guy and roll his eyes, or god forbid call me a stuck up bitch or an ass for not allying with him?

"I guess not.

"Though that doesn't stop it from being annoying as hell."

"I get that."

Of course, you do.

"But if you don't mind me asking.

"If you're not over here to ally with me. What are you doing?"

"That's… hard to explain."

"I see.

"Well, in that case, would you mind helping me figure out how I'm supposed to get the edible bark out of the inside of this thing while you try to come up with a way to explain it?"

"I um… I guess I could.

"As long as you understand this I would just be helping you this once and it's really more about me killing time until lunch than anything else. It doesn't mean we're allies or that I'm even entertaining the notion of making that a thing."

"That's fine by me, Lexy.

"So, should I go get a new piece of bark or can we salvage the one I already have..?"

* * *

 **Pearl Caspian-16 (D4F)**

I really hate to admit this, especially since it's entirely too late in the game to do a damn thing about it, but I'm starting to wish I had stood by my gut and voted not to kick Bijou and Tartarus out of the alliance. I mean, voting with the others to kick the two of them out seemed like the most practical, if not intelligent, thing for me to do at the time.

You know, because I didn't want to end up in the same boat as them. Which is exactly what would have happened if I had stuck to my guns and told Isabelle and Sandor, who's supposed to be on my side but can't seem to keep his hormones in check when he's around Isabelle, that their idea was stupid and I wouldn't go along with it. Even if I did think that Piper and Axel, the tributes they picked to replace them, had about a fifty-fifty shot at being just as good if not a wee bit better in the long run.

Unfortunately, after spending the last couple of days dealing with the aftermath of my decision, I've come to the gut-churningly terrible realization that not only was I wrong about Piper and Axle, but that I really should have gone with my gut instead of my head. And not just because the two of them have proven to be nothing more than slightly above average tributes, which is made even worse by the fact that Bijou and Tartarus have proven themselves to be every bit the careers their home districts said they would be.

No, the main reason I regret what I did as much as I do is because I was so caught up in all of it that I didn't notice that Isabelle and Sandor, and to a lesser extent Piper and Axel, were quickly but quietly edging me, not to mention poor Bacchus, out of the loop on any and all things alliance related. In what I can only assume is some sort of retaliation for the rather lukewarm way that both of us responded to the decision to kick Bijou and Tartarus to the curb.

Not that it matters much at this point. I mean, I've already made my bed, and as much as I'd rather do anything else in the entire world, I guess I'm going to have to suck it up and lie in it. Even if that means having to pretend that I'm OK with the idea of being treated like a third-rate tribute in my own alliance. Because as much as I hate to admit this, I really don't have any other option. Or at the very least, not a better option.

Which, if I'm being completely honest with myself, is the one thing about all of this that pisses me off to no end. The fact that said anger is currently being taken out on Bacchus, who happens to be the only one of my "allies" that seems to actually like me, and is currently doing everything he can to parry my increasingly wild and violent trident strikes with his shield. Is just a super unfortunate byproduct of things.

"Ease up a second there, Pearl!

"We're just training here, not fighting to the death."

"But this is a fight to the death, Bacchus. At least it is for me."

"No, Pearl, it's not. It's still training.

"And while I get that you want to make it as realistic as you possibly can. That's still not an excuse to beat the crap out of me."

He has a point. It's not his fault that I've been making one stupid decision after another since I first got off of the train in the Capitol. Nor is it his fault that I was both stupid enough to expect that my being from District Four would make things easy for me, and gullible enough take any of the things that Isabelle and Sandor have been telling me at face value.

"I'm sorry, Bacchus. I'm just a little frustrated and I took it out on you. Will you forgive me?"

"Of course I'll forgive you. After all, we are allies. And if you can't forgive your ally for doing something stupid, then who can you forgive?"

"I don't know. But if I ever come up with an answer to that question, I promise I'll let you know."

"Deal."

Bacchus offers me his hand in affirmation of our stupid little agreement, and after a split second of hesitation, I thrust mine into his and give his arm a couple of pumps just seconds before the ear-splitting crash of an unseen gong begins to ring out from every corner of the training center. Signaling to the handful of tributes still on the main floor that it's time to go eat what may end up being the antepenultimate lunch of our young lives.

"Well, I guess it's time to go. We should hurry up and get to the dining area before Isabelle starts to complain.

"You coming, Pearl?"

"I guess so…"

* * *

 **A/N: OK, so first off I'd like to apologize for how long this update took me to get out. My procrastinating nature finally caught up with me hard and I had 4 weeks or so to get through 8 or so weeks of school work before the end of the semester. I got lucky and managed to pull it off, but I had to push this story, which I would much rather work on then a 15 page paper on the rise and fall of the Persian Empire in Egypt, to the side for a bit.**

 **But I'm back now, and hopefully better than ever, so I want to thank all of you for being so awesomely understanding and patient, and I hope that this update was well worth the wait. :D**


	29. Expectations(T Day 3 Part 2)

**Euonymus Flax-18 (D11M)**

Part of me wishes that all of my training was as structured and well-managed as the first hour or so of the day is. And not just because I've always sort of craved, and to a lesser extent sort of enjoyed, the recognition and pride I always seem to feel when I'm told just how good of a job I did by whoever happens to be in charge of whatever it is that I'm doing.

That's obviously a part of it, don't get me wrong. But it's only half the reason. And if I'm being honest with myself, it's also the slightly less important and self-serving half. While the other, slightly more important, and self-serving half of things, is my need, not desire, but need, to know what everyone's expectations for me are. Because understanding what's expected of me is the only way I can properly set my sights on the perfection I expect, and in some cases even demand, of myself.

That's why I love being a writer so much. I'm the one that sets the baseline expectations, so I know going in what I have to do in order to be perfect. And there's nothing quite like the thrill of finishing up a book and sending it in to be edited, or published, and knowing that it is in fact perfect. Just like there's nothing quite like the ego bump you get from being told as much once the book is actually edited or published. Especially when you live for the recognition that comes with being perfect.

Unfortunately, my chances to feel the sense of pride and accomplishment that comes from being perfect, have been somewhat lacking since I arrived in the Capitol. And while the majority of the things I've done so far during training, be it knife combat, trap building, first aid, and even fire starting, have been done with an acceptable level of competence. They've been far from perfect.

Which is why, despite knowing full well that it's a stupidly unproductive waste of my time, I keep coming back to the one station in the room I've actually been able to master up to this point. And running it over and over again.

A fact that I'm almost positive hasn't gone unnoticed by the unsurprisingly quiet but deceptively sharp old woman who runs the stupid station.

"Look, I hate to ask this since I get so few visitors as it is.

"But is there a reason you keep coming back to run through this station, kid?"

See.

"I um… I beg your pardon, ma'am?"

"I asked if there was a reason you kept coming back to run through this station?

"I mean, the first time you tried the exercise out you managed to master it on the highest difficulty setting it has. And you did so in record time."

"I remember that.

"The look of shocked disbelief on your face when my perfect scored popped up on the screen after I zipped through the quiz without stopping to blink was kind of cool."

"I'm sure it was. But that doesn't change the fact that you've already mastered this station.

"And since there's no in real game benefit for being the fastest tribute on the edible plant and berries based logic puzzle. I can't for the life of me figure out why you keep coming back here to run through the stupid thing over and over again.

"Hell, most tributes only run this thing once or twice no matter how good or bad their scores are. But you've run it at least a dozen times already and are apparently intent on running it at least once more."

I don't for the life of me know how I'm supposed to respond to that last part. Which is unusual for me, because I've almost always got some misdirection filled but still perfectly serviceable and legitimate, response tucked away in my back pocket for situations just like this.

But for some odd reason, none of them seem all that interested in springing out of the yawning chasm that is my brain to save me. Which means I have two options left to me. Tell her the truth, which I'm not all that high on in this particular case. Or pretend not to have heard her at all and just sort of hope she takes the hint and leaves me alone.

Which even I know has about as much chance of happening as I do of being told they made a mistake back at the reaping and I'm not actually the District Eleven male tribute. Which is to say none whatsoever.

"Look, kid, you don't have to answer me if you don't want to. I was just curious as to why someone with your obvious talents and smarts keeps wasting his limited amount of training time doing something he's already mastered."

"You know, I've been asking myself that same question for at least the last day and a half. And as luck would have it, I finally came up with an answer to it just a few minutes ago."

"Fantastic…

"Were you planning to share it with me? Or should I take the fact that you haven't as an indication to stop talking and go set up the station so you can run through it again?"

"Well, this should come as no surprise, but I'm really not in the mood to share right now…

"So, if it's not too much trouble...

I've never been more disappointed in myself at any point in my entire life than I am right now. But try as I might, I can't force myself to swallow my pride, which is a prerequisite for me to change my crappy answer, in the minute or so of quiet between my giving my answer, and the trainer responding to it.

"Say no more, kid.

"One stupidly pointless rerunning of the edible plant and berries test coming right up…"

* * *

 **Kylon Warwick-17 (D8M)**

I never thought I would have to admit this, mainly because I never imagined our alliance would make it past the first day of training. But I seriously underestimated just how good of an ally Annalee could actually be.

In fact, the more time we spend together training. The more I start to wonder why someone as talented as her would bother with someone like me at all?

Because between my crap combat skills. My refusal to take anything as seriously as I should. And my less than stellar ability to stay focused and on task when I don't enjoy what I'm doing. I'm not exactly the poster boy for an amazing Hunger Games ally.

"Are you listening to me, Kylon?"

Speaking of which…

"Of course I'm listening to you, Annalee. In fact, I heard every word you just said."

"Did you though?"

"Of course I did."

"Then why do you have that I've been off in my own world for so long that I don't have the slightest idea what it is I'm doing look on your face?"

"OK. First off. I do not have that look on my face.

"And second off, even if I did, it wouldn't matter. Because, as I've told you before, my face always looks like that."

"Yeah. I didn't buy that crappy excuse the first time you tried it and I don't buy it now."

"What if I say it with a funny voice? Would you buy it then?"

OK, so I'm pretty sure that sounded a lot better in my head than it did in real life. And if I couldn't tell that Annalee is trying super hard not to bust out laughing at just how stupidly playful and cheesy it ended up being, I might actually be worried. But I can, so I'm not.

Or at the very least I'm not as worried as I would be if she was trying to hide a disgusted grunt or an angry eye roll instead of an honest to god giggle.

"You know something, Kylon. You really are a royal pain in the ass sometimes."

"But..?"

"But... You're still a pretty cool guy.

"I mean, you'd have to be. That's the only way I can justify how often you make me laugh at your stupid jokes and having fun when I should be acting serious and getting ready for the Games."

"What can I say. I like to have fun, and when I have fun, everyone around me tends to have fun too."

"Oh, there's no doubt about that.

"Now, if you could just find the want and the will to channel your awesome little gift into something more constructive. Maybe you wouldn't be such a drag on our chances of winning."

You know, it's hard for me to argue with that kind of super sound and well… thought… out... Hold on a second...

"Did you really just try to sneak one of Thomas's crappy insults in there at the end of all that?"

"Did I?"

"I think you did."

"Are you sure?

"I mean, that doesn't sound like something I would do."

"Oh don't you try that crap with me, Annalee. We both know that it sounds exactly like something you would do.

"Especially when you're trying to prove to me that I'm not paying attention."

I've got her now. And if the look of amused defeat on her face is any indication, she knows it.

"OK, you got me. I was trying to see if I could catch you not paying attention to me."

"I knew it!"

"Oh don't act so smug. There's no living with you when you get like that.

"And seeing as we're going to be spending more and more time together over the next few days, my not being able to live with you could end up being a major problem."

"But if I stop acting smug now how will you and everyone else know that I have such an awesome personality?! HOW!"

"Well, I already know. So you have nothing to worry about there.

"So I guess the real question is. Do you really care if the people who are going to be trying to kill you know that you have an awesome personality?"

How in the heck am I supposed to argue with logic like that?! No, I mean seriously, how in the sam heck am I supposed to argue with that kind of stupidly strong yet maddeningly annoying logic?!

"Oh no, you don't… Don't you go off and space out on me again Kylon!"

"Oh for the love of. You don't want me to share my award-winning personality with everyone. You don't want me to make cheesy jokes during serious moments. You don't want me to space out when I should be paying attention.

"Is there anything fun or normal for me that I can do?"

"Of course there is. You just have to pay attention for the rest of the day before I'll tell you what."

"Oh that's is so unfair."

"I know it is. But if me being unfair now helps keep you, and more importantly me, alive in the arena, I'll find a way to live with myself."

"You know, if you keep saying things like that I might actually start to think that you care about me, Annalee."

"Don't be silly, Kylon. There's no might about it.

"I mean come on, you're my district partner. You're my ally. I'd even go so far as to say you're my friend.

"So of course I care about you."

"You um… You do?"

"Of course I do.

"Just because this little alliance of ours hasn't been everything I'd hoped it would be. Doesn't mean I don't care about you, Kylon."

"I don't… I don't know what to say."

"Then don't say anything.

"Just get down here and help me camouflage this stupid spike pit trap so the trainer can grade us on it before we run out of time and have to clean it up."

* * *

 **Bacchus Jaguar-18 (D2M)**

You know, I hate to admit this. Mostly because I really don't think I could come up with a better idea if I had too. But I'm sort of disappointed in the plan of attack Isabelle and Sandor came up with for the bloodbath.

I mean, the plan itself is relatively simple and surprisingly straightforward as far as plans go. The hardest part of it for me is going to be tracking down my partner, in this case, Piper. As well as my designated anti-career target, in this case, my district partner Tartarus. Before things get too far out of control and I lose the ability to do so.

But even with all of that being said, I can't help but feel more than a little disappointed in just how unnecessarily convoluted and single-minded the justification behind the plan really is. I mean, we all know that Bijou, Tartarus, and their new friend Cliff are by far the single biggest, and in all reality the only, real threat to our otherwise unassailable alliance. But that doesn't mean we can afford to zero in on them at the expense of everything and everyone else in the arena.

That's both dangerous and stupid. In fact, it just might be dangerously stupid. Which I guess is just a more creative and easy flowing way to say that it's dangerous and stupid. But I digress…

"So that's the plan. I know it might seem like a bit much now. But Isabelle and I have been working on this for a while now. And we're confident that this is the plan that will put our alliance in the best possible position to run the table. Which in turn should all but assure that one of the six of us will end up being the last tribute standing."

"Provided none of you screws up your seemingly simple assignment that is."

OK, so why in the hell did Isabelle feel the need to add that last little bit in there? I mean come on, it was bad enough that we had to sit here and listen to Sandor as he passive-aggressively insulted our intelligence by stopping every five or so seconds to ask us things like, did you all understand what that last "big" word I used meant. So there was no real need for Isabelle to add-on to it there at the end.

Especially since the odds of any of us, even Piper and Axle, who are the ones she should be worried about, actually screwing something this simple up are almost non-existent. Could it happen, of course, it could. Anything could happen. But the chances of it happening are so amazingly low that there's no real reason to even bring the possibility that it could happen up.

Unless she's actively trying to plant the seeds of failure in the backs of everyone's minds of that is… But there's no reason for her to do that either. Or at the very least not a good reason that also jells with her self granted title of co-leader of the best career alliance in the long history of the career alliance that is. At least I don't think there is?

Then again, it's not like I actually care one way or the other at this point either. I mean, there's only so much crap I can take before I just stop caring, and we passed that point about fifteen or twenty minutes ago. The fact that none of the others seem all that interested in calling Sandor or Isabelle out for talking down to us, just helps to reinforce my belief that we've all gotten to that point in this relationship.

The fact that said realization doesn't exactly bode well for the long-term viability of our alliance as a whole, is a problem for future Bacchus and his allies to worry about. Not the modern-day ones who are as done with all of Isabelle's and Sandor's crap as they could possibly be,

Fortunately, none of us actually has to respond to them either. Because after about two and a half or so minutes of respectful silence that followed Sandor and Isabelle stupid little presentation, the gong that signals the end of our final day of training starts to ring out from every corner of the room with a low, loud, and steady tone. Giving every one of us the excuse we need to quickly and quietly slip out of the room without saying something that might get us kicked out of the alliance.

Which, as much as I hate to admit, might not be a bad thing. You know, once all of the unpleasantness that is the upcoming bloodbath is done and over with that is...

* * *

 **Quills Danelhayr-17 (D9M)**

Well, I did it. No one in their right mind would have thought I could pull this off. But through my sheer force of will, and an unconquerable desire to do the impossible. I actually managed to do the one thing no one else in the history of District Nine, and maybe even Panem as a whole, has ever even dreamed of trying to pull off.

That's right, I, the great and powerful Quills Danelhayr, managed to do the impossible. I made it through three full days of Hunger Games training despite being sloshed out of my mind for every single second of it. Or at the very least I think the word I'm looking for is sloshed. It could very well be blitzed or smashed. Depending on your preference or how you ordered the levels of inebriation those words represent.

Regardless, I've spent the entirety of the last three days drunk out of my mind. A fact that has made what would otherwise be an unbearably unfun exercise, by far one of the most fun things I've ever done in my entire life. Which really is saying something despite the fact that I'm still just seventeen-years-old.

I mean seriously, having fun during Hunger Games training is an accomplishment worth celebrating. Getting away with being drunk for the entirety of Hunger Games training is an accomplishment worth celebrating. So doing both at the same time is the kind of super accomplishment that should be celebrated from now until the end of time. Which is why I have every intention of announcing to the world what it is I've done during my pre-game interview.

But that's at least a day and a half away from happening. So right now I need to go ahead and focus on something much more important. Like getting up to my district's suite without upchucking on all of the poor souls that are fortunate enough to be sharing the elevator with me right now. And once that's done, I need to quickly but quietly secure myself a few more bottles of that sweet red wine I love so much before Hyperia has the avox lock it up like she did last night. Because I'm not sure I can stomach the idea, let alone the reality, of having to slum it up and drink nothing but vodka for another night…

Of course, if this elevator keeps jolting around like it has been for the last few seconds, I won't have to worry about that. Because if it doesn't, there's a better than fifty-fifty chance that I'm going to throw up all over the place sooner rather than later. And if that happens, Hyperia will have the avox lock up all the booze, not just the good stuff. Which would unfortunately force me to spend the majority of my night drying out instead of carefully nursing the nearly week-old buzz that's helped me survive what has basically been hell on Earth for the last three plus days.

Then again, I guess whether or not that happens is as out of my hands as anything can possibly be. So I might as well focus on just how much fun tonight, and to a lesser extent the next couple of days, are going to be if I can find a way to NOT barf until I'm safely locked away in the welcoming embrace of my private bathroom. Where I'll have the opportunity to wash the taste of regurgitated wine out with the oh so sweet taste of new wine...

* * *

 **A/N: And that, my friends, is that. After 6 chapters and a stupid amount of time, we've finally finished up with the training chapters. Which means, at long last, we can finally move on to the important stuff. I'm speaking of course of individual sessions, training scores, and pre-game interviews! We're also getting oh so tantalizingly close to the start of the Games proper if that's your cup of tea ;) lol.**

 **Speaking of which, after giving it a lot of thought, and writing a couple of rough draft chapters that quickly exploded in size without any sign of slowing down, I've decided to approach the individual sessions/scoring chapter and the interview chapter in a new and slightly different way.**

 **Instead of doing 24 individual sessions and then a talk show interview type thing like I've done in the past, I'm going to combine both chapters into one and do it from the POV of the Head Gamemaker as she and her staff try to come up with a finalized score roster. This should allow me to briefly go over what each tribute did, as well as how well they did it and just how impressive the gamemakers thought they were, before giving them a score. Think of it as a quick hitter recap of the highlights and low-lights from each session.**

 **As to the interviews, I'm going to do those in recap style too, but from the interviewing POV of either the President or the Master of Ceremonies. Which again, should allow for a greatest and worst hits collection for each tribute, as well as a general impression of how the powers that be think they did and who they are, without so much of the page eating filler I have a bad habit of throwing into the mix.**

 **I hope this is ok with everyone and that it works out as well as I think it will. But I'll have time to worry about that later. Right now, I'd much rather hear what everyone thinks of the last chapter, so I'm going to wrap this up so you can all go and comment :) And I'll look forward to seeing all of your happy faces at the next update! :D**


	30. Measuring Up(Session Recaps and Scores)

**Centaura Vale (Head Gamemaker)**

"Alright, everyone. Sit down and shut up so we can get this dog and pony show on the road. I've got to sit down and go over these scores with our Mistress of Ceremonies in just a hair under two hours, and we're not even close to having the list done yet."

"The boss is right guys.

"We've had our fun, but now it's time to get serious and go to work."

"Thank you, drone A."

"My name is actually…"

"I don't care what your name is right now. I don't have time to learn it, nor do I honestly care what it is, to begin with, so you're drone A.

"In fact, for the rest of the day, you're all drones. Starting from A here, I want each of you to take the marker in front of you and write your assigned letter in big, bold print on the back of your id tags and leave the back facing out."

OK, so I can tell that my overly dismissive and impersonal approach to names has, for lack of a better phrase, pissed off, more than a few of my new subordinates. And I'm sure at some point in the near future I'm going to have to apologize to each of them individually in order to smooth all of this over. But as much as I hate to say this, that's a problem for future Centaura to worry about. Because the only thing current Centaura cares about is hurrying this shit along so she has a chance to freshen up before going on national t.v. and talking about these stupid scores.

Fortunately, my drones are smart enough to set aside their anger at me and do what I told them to do in a relatively quick and efficient manner. And within thirty or so seconds of my order being given, I'm looking out from my spot at the head of the table at twenty-four big black letters on

"Thank you.

"Now, before we get into the blood and guts of things. I'd like to quickly go over whether or not anyone believes that we have any tributes who should get a perfect twelve, or any tributes who deserve a zero."

"Do you mind if we ask why?"

"Of course not R.

"The reason I want to do this now is that it will help us set the baseline for the rest of the scores. If we have someone who did amazing, but not as good as the tribute or tributes we decided were perfect, we know they probably deserve a score of ten or eleven. On the other side, if we have a tribute who was terrible, but still managed to do better then anyone we've already given a zero too, we know they deserve a score in the one to three range instead."

"And if we don't have anyone who fits into either category, ma'am?"

"It still works the same way, D. We know that they were the best of the best or the worst of the worst, they just weren't good or bad enough to warrant a perfect or zero score.

"So, with that being said. Does anyone think we have any tributes who fall into the perfect category?

"Gregor?"

"Well, ma'am, I think I speak for everyone when I say that none of the tributes showed me enough skill to warrant being given a perfect score. In fact, I'm honestly not even sure any of them did enough to deserve a double-digit score at all.

"I mean, we have a fair number of extremely talented tributes in this year's crop. And by the time we're done here I'm sure we'll have handed out our fair share of eights and nines to the tributes who deserve them. But none of those tributes were perfect, nor were they really all that close. And in my book, you need to be just a hair or two away from being perfect to justify receiving a double-digit score."

"That's a fair sentiment. And it's one I happen to agree with.

"However, I'm willing to open the floor up to any of you who might object to Gregor's assessment of the tributes.

"Anyone? No?

"Ok then. On to the zeroes.

"Yes, drone O?"

"I have a tribute for the zero score."

"Fantastic. Who is it and why do they deserve a zero?"

"It's the boy from Ten. I think his name is Mazeem Law."

"Yes, it is. And why does Mazeem deserve a zero?"

"Well, for starters, he didn't actually do anything during his session. He just sat there in the middle of the floor and angrily glared up at us.

"Couple that with the fact that he spent most of his normal training time trying to set the stations on fire and sleeping. And it seems to me like he's as perfect a zero tribute as we've ever had...

"Ma'am."

"That's a fairly straightforward and compelling case. Well done, O."

"Thank you. Ma'am."

"So, does anyone have an objection to giving Mazeem Law a zero? No?

"Very well then. Mazeem Law of District Ten will receive a score of zero. Is there anyone else who deserves to join him in that infamous club?"

I spend the next minute and a half watching, amused, as my drones stare down at and shuffle through their notes expectantly before looking up and exchanging glances with some of their more brave and vocal colleagues. And upon discovering that no one else is going to speak up, they shake their heads in unison before settling in and waiting patiently for me to move on to the next item on my agenda.

"OK then. It looks like we're ready to move on to the rest of the scoring then. And I guess for the sake of formality, as well as ease, we'll start with District One.

"Gregor. If you would please"

It would be my pleasure, ma'am.

"District One, the heart, and soul of the career districts in recent years, and home to Isabelle Price and Bijou Devon. Core members of two of the most dangerous alliances in this year's Games.

"So, which of you numskulls were taken with watching these two?"

"That would be us, sir. Drones A and X."

"Fantastic. And what do the two of you have on Isabelle and Bijou?"

"Well, X and I have been watching both of them fairly close, and we're inclined to award Isabelle an eight and Bijou a six."

"And why is that? X?"

"Well, Isabelle was fairly impressive during her session and throughout the week as a whole. She has shown us she's a relatively intelligent young woman as well as a decently competent fighter. The fluid way she moves with that bladed boomerang in her hands is a thing of beauty. Couple that with the leadership ability she's displayed in private, and her looks, and she's an easy eight."

"Her looks are irrelevant to this particular discussion X, and I would like to take this chance to remind all of you of that fact. This isn't a beauty pageant, we're not scoring these tributes based on how comfortable you'd be with taking them home to show off to your friends and family."

"Apologies, ma'am."

"Don't apologize, X. Just don't do it again and get back on track."

"Of course.

"Now, as I was about to say, Isabelle is an incredibly well-rounded tribute, but she's not the strongest of the strong. She has very real and obvious flaws. And while I and A continue to believe she's intentionally making those flaws seem more serious than they are, we also can't ignore them in scoring her. That's why we gave her an eight. Which is a strong and solid score, but not the strongest or most solid."

"Sounds good. But what about Bijou?

"Why does he deserve a six? A?"

"Well, the main reason we gave him a six is that he's a fairly normal and unremarkable tribute. He spent most of his individual session showing off his supremely average and unremarkable skills with a glaive, before moving on and showing us a couple of relatively simple knots and a half-finished trap. And when we combine that showing with his performance during the week, we have a tribute who screams mediocrity.

"Which is why we gave him a six. Ma'am."

"Alright then. Does anyone have any objections to awarding Isabelle an eight and Bijou a six?

"No? Good. On to District Two then.

"Gregor."

"District Two, home to Elysium Katsaros, who I understand prefers to be referred to as Tartarus, and her district partner Bacchus Jaguar. Who may be the least career looking career I've ever seen.

"I believe I assigned the team of B and W to these two."

"You did sir. And after lots of back and forth with our peers, and some careful consideration, W and I have decided to award Elysium and nine, and Bacchus an eight.

"Provided Ms. Vale approves."

"As long as you can justify your decision with real and supportable facts, I don't care what score you give them."

"Fantastic. Because I believe W and I have some super solid and justifiable reasons for giving these two the scores we did. But since he's the better talker, I'll let him go ahead and explain our reasoning.

"W?"

"Thank you.

"As B said, we decided to give Elysium a nine. And the primary reason we did so is because of just how far outside the box she's proven she's willing to go to succeed. She easily found a way, albeit a very dirty one, to overpower three significantly larger, faster, and stronger opponents in hand to hand combat during her individual session. Couple that with three days of incredibly solid, and at times spectacular, work on a variety of stations, and you have one of the strongest and most well-rounded tributes in the entire field.

"Only her lack of competence with other weapons and a slightly below average level of endurance kept her from breaking double digits."

"Sounds good. What about Bacchus?"

"Bacchus ended up with an eight in large part because of his less than stellar showing during his individual session. He spent entirely too much time trying to show off how many different types of weapons he could use, that he didn't have enough time to make a strong impression with any of them.

"I mean, the ability to use a variety of weapons as competently as he did is rather impressive, but I'm not sold on the idea that he could actually kill someone with most of them.

"However, his solid if unspectacular performance during normal training hours, where he proved just how smart and unpredictably cagey he really is, helped soften the blow from his lackluster showing."

"I see.

"Does anyone have anything to add about Bacchus and Elysium? Or are we ready to close the book on them and their respective scores of eight and nine, and move on to District Three...?

"Alright then. It looks like that book is closed.

"Gregor. Please introduce us to the tributes of District Three?"

"It would be my pleasure, ma'am.

"District Three, the brains of Panem, has provided us with two relatively smart but physically unimpressive tributes in the form of Ms. Iridessa Parks and Mr. Joss Stellan. Who were closely evaluated by the ever watchful eyes of drones C and V."

"Yes, they were. And after speaking with our peers and some careful consideration, C and I have decided to award Iridessa a four and Joss a three.

"C…"

"Thank you.

"So, as my partner said, we decided to give Iridessa a four do in large part to her passably decent survival skills. She showed an unexpected level of proficiency with edible plants during her individual session; which lines up well with the average skill she showed with basic first aid, knot tying, trap making, and fire starting.

"The main drawback with her, as you might expect, was her lack of combat skills. She never really worked on it during training, and what little she showed us with the darts during her session was, to say the least, less than inspiring."

"I see. And Joss?"

"We gave Joss a three because he did almost the exact same things as Iridessa. He just happened to be slightly less proficient at it on all counts.

"His attempt to show proficiency with plants, both edible and medicinal, would have ended in tragedy had he been in the arena and not the training center. And his skills with a knife were somehow less inspiring then Iridessa's skills with the darts were.

"Add in the fact that he never really showed us anything during training to offset his poor showing, we had no choice but to give him a three. Because he did try to improve himself."

"Very well. If there are no objections to Iridessa's four or Joss's three, I say we finalize them and move on to District Four.

"Anyone? No?

"Ok then. Gregor."

"District Four, home to sandy-white beaches, a smorgasbord of amazing seafood, and Hunger Games tributes Pearl Caspian and Sandor Torrent. Who are, surprisingly, the only pair of district partners in this years career alliance.

"Drones D and U. If you would please."

"Thank you, sir.

"As Mr. Gregor said, I'm drone U, and my partner, drone D and I, had the privilege of watching Pearl and Sandor train over the last few days. And after much consideration and a surprisingly heated back and forth, we've decided to award Pearl a nine, and her partner Sandor an eight.

"The justification for which, my partner will now provide. D?"

"Thank you.

"As U said, we decided to award Pearl a nine, tying her score wise with Elysium and an as of yet unrevealed tribute for the high score. And the main reason we scored her this high was because of her seemingly flawless blend of combat and survival skills.

"I mean, we all saw what she could do with a spear, knife, or a trident during her session when she absolutely eviscerated nearly a hundred holograms in just under six minutes. And while she wasn't nearly as willing to flaunt her survival skills during training as she was her combat skills, what little we did see of them proved that she's almost as proficient with them as she is with a weapon."

"Fantastic. And Sandor?"

"Well, we gave Sandor an eight because he really didn't show us anything we didn't already know about him during his individual session.

"He may have proved that he's just as deadly with a spear or a trident as Pearl is, but he never really proved that he had the survival skills or ability to think on his feet that we feel is necessary to elevate him to the same tier as Elysium or Pearl."

I'm not entirely sure that I buy the logic behind Sandor's score, but I honestly don't care enough about what score he actually gets to argue the point. So I guess I'll just go with it and hope that Lanteia is just as uninterested in digging into this with me later as I am right now.

"Alright then. I've got Pearl down for a nine and Sandor an eight. Does anyone have a problem with that, or anything else of value to add to this discussion? No?

"Fantastic. That means we can move on to District Five."

"Yes, it does. And seeing as I assigned drones E and T to monitor Nira and Cliff, I'm going to go ahead and just turn things right over to them instead of talking. Since I can see we're running short of time and what not."

"I'd appreciate that, Gregor. I really would.

"And with that being said, what do E and T have for me?"

"What we've got, ma'am, is a pair of tributes who managed to meet or surpass all but the most outrageous and outlandish expectations T and I set for them. That's why we eventually decided to give both Nira and Cliff matching scores of seven.

"T?"

"Thank you.

"As my partner said, we decided to give both Nira and Cliff scores of seven, and seeing as the main reasons we did so are so similar, I'm going to cover both of them at the same time.

"Both Nira and Cliff showed off their above average combat skills during their individual sessions, Nira with knives, both throwing and non, and Cliff with single and two-handed hammers. And they both spent the majority of their regular training time showing an amazing aptitude for a varied array of survival skills, with Nira excelling in things like first aid and tracking, and Cliff showing an amazing affinity for traps and snares.

"Couple all of that with Cliff's obvious intelligence and Nira's never back down approach to things, and we felt that both of them deserved scores that accurately reflected their surprisingly decent chances at coming out on top."

"Fair enough. Are there any objections to the sevens that E and T have given to Nira and Cliff?

"No? Fantastic. Then let's move on to District Six.

"Gregor."

"District Six is Reid Stitchell and Axel Bishop. And if I'm not mistaken, I believe that drones F and S had that district this year."

"We did sir.

"And if it pleases the Head Gamemaker, F and I have decided to award Reid a four and Axle n eight. For reasons that my partner will now go over.

"F."

"Right.

"So the primary reason we decided to give Reid a four is because of her surprisingly well-developed knowledge of human anatomy. During her session, she bored all of us to tears with a very thorough, and if I might add super disturbing, explanation of all the different ways a person can be made to hurt and bleed for hours without dying, as well as to bleed and die within minutes.

"However, this was really all she had to show us. She never displayed any sort of real aptitude with a weapon, nor did she show us anything above a very rudimentary understanding of even the most basic survival skills."

"So why a four then?"

"Excuse me, ma'am?"

"I asked why you gave her a four then?

"I mean, does a well-developed understanding of human anatomy really justify such a middling overall score? Especially when it's not coupled with any sort of legitimately useful skills?"

"Well, our primary thinking was…"

"You've already gone over your thinking F. I'm just trying to reconcile what you've said about Reid, which sounds like a textbook case for a one or two, with the score of four that you gave her.

"And I'm sorry, but it's just not coming together. So I'm going to have to overrule you on this and give Reid a two.

"Unless you have other mitigating information to back up your original score of four?"

"We… um… No, ma'am."

"Fine. Reid gets a two.

"Now, tell us why Axle deserves that eight."

"Yes… yes, ma'am.

"So, Axle seems to be as different from his partner as night is from day. He's strong, thoughtful, analytical, and maybe most importantly, he's determined.

"All of that was on display during his individual session when he used his mace to expertly smash a dozen or so holographic enemies into dust before quickly moving a dozen heavy logs into one place and building an impressive lean-to that could also double as a fallback position in a fight.

"Couple all of that with the rudimentary plant-based smarts he developed during over the course of training, and we feel very comfortable with giving Axle an eight."

Ok, so at least these two screw-ups did HALF of their job right. I mean, Axle's score not only makes sense, but they actually took the time to EXPLAIN and justify WHY and HOW they settled on the score they gave him. Which I can only hope is what the rest of these morons did as well. Because I don't have the time or the patience to rescore any more tributes than I already have.

"Well done, F and S. Does anyone else have anything to add before we move on to District Seven?

"Good. Moving on then. And if it's not too much trouble, can we PLEASE pick up the pace a bit? I'd really like to have more than five minutes between finishing up what we're doing and my interview with Lanteia.

"Gregor?"

"Yes, ma'am.

"District Seven, home to Julie van Vigne and Ives Dusket and the responsibility of drones G and R.

"G, if you would please?"

"Of course, sir.

"So, R and I spent a lot of time watching Julie and Ives, which ended up being easier than we had originally anticipated because Ives spent a huge amount of his time following Julie and her new friends around the training center. Though that didn't stop him from racking up a rather impressive array of accomplishments and new skills before all was said and done.

"As such, after coupling their performances during their individual sessions and their other training, R and I eventually decided to award Julie a two and Ives an eight.

"R?"

"Thank you, G.

"So, our thinking behind Julie's score is that, despite her very real and impressive ability to climb and run, she doesn't have ANY other legitimate skills to speak of. I mean, the ability to climb or run away from danger is always a good thing, but she doesn't supplement that ability with anything else.

She has zero combat skills. Zero survival skills. And at times we seriously doubted that she has any sort of survival instinct. Which may end up putting her into a situation that her speed, agility, and energy just can't get her out of."

"That's a solid argument. And as a result, I have no issues with Julie's two."

"Thank you, ma'am.

"Now, as to Ives, we had a little more trouble nailing him down as a tribute because of how he spent the majority of his time during training. I mean, he did show us that he has a solid grasp of plants, both edible and medicinal, as well as an almost otherworldly ability to start a fire regardless of the tools and materials he has to work with. When you couple that with his rather impressive showing during his individual session, where he proved once and for all that it is possible to split one of those massive steel balls in half with an ax as long as you hit it hard enough and in the right place, we decided that he deserved an eight."

I might have given him a nine myself, that display of strength alone warrants at least a six on its own, but I'm still not in the mood to fight these guys on an underscore. Especially not when the difference between the score given and the score I think he deserved is so small.

"Good work, G and R. You did such a fantastic job with Julie and Ives that I can't imagine anyone having an issue with their scores. And since I'm always right, I suggest we close the book on Seven and open the one on Eight.

"Gregor."

"District Eight, the beating heart of Panem fashion, is home to Annalee Tack and Kylon Warwick. And was the responsibility of two of my best in drones H and Q."

"That is was sir. And I have to say, H and I were pleasantly surprised by just how well both Annalee and Kylon ended up performing. They may not have been perfect, but they ended up doing a hell of a lot better than either of us felt they had any right too.

"Which is why, after careful consideration, H and I decided to award Annalee a solid six, and Kylon a semi-respectable five. Though I do feel it's imperative that I add that Kylon, despite getting a slightly lower score, really isn't that much worse than Annalee is in most aspects.

"H?"

"So as my partner said, there really isn't that much of a difference between Annalee and Kylon.

"They both have a working, if unspectacular, knowledge of basic survival skills and have shown the ability to think on their feet when things don't go their way. And while Kylon has an almost unimaginable grasp of the human body from a medical perspective, Annalee is just as proficient at picking out pressure points and weak spots that she can use to overpower a much larger and stronger opponent.

"Which is what brings us to their only other real difference. Their combat skills.

"These were on full display during both of their individual sessions. And while Annalee proved that she's just as capable of killing someone with her bare hands as she is with a knife, Kylon wasn't nearly as impressive. And while his medical and anatomical knowledge may give him the ability to kill someone with relative ease, his actual fighting skills give us reason to question whether he'd be capable of overpowering anyone that's not just sitting there waiting for him to kill them."

"I see. And do you or your partner have anything else to add? Or was that all?"

"No, that's pretty much it. Ma'am."

"Fantastic. In that case, I happily affirm Annalee's score of six and Kylon's score of five, and move that we move on to District Nine.

"Unless anyone has any objections..?"

I don't know why I even bother to keep asking that question at this point. I mean, this is the eighth time I've asked it, and it's the eighth time I've wasted precious seconds scanning the table in search of a drone with the balls to question my decision. And seeing as I know for a fact none of them are going to do so, I might as well stop asking the question altogether.

"Are you ready to move on to Nine now, ma'am?"

"Was that a serious question, Gregor?"

"Of course not, ma'am.

"District Nine is, as you all know, the breadbasket of Panem, the home of Hunger Games tributes Saralee Spelt and Quills Danelhayr, and the assigned district of drones I and P."

"That it is, sir. And I must say, both I and I feel that we've done a superb job in handicapping both Saralee and Quills. Who both proved to be somehow more and less talented than we imagined at the outset. Which is why we ended up awarding Saralee a three and Quills a five.

"I..?"

"Thank you, P.

"So, the primary reason we awarded Saralee a three, and I hate having to say this out loud, is because she showed up to both training and her individual session and tried her hardest. She's not really "good" at anything, she's honestly not even kind of good at anything, but she tries.

"Take her individual session. She missed more targets than she hit with her blowgun and she screwed up pretty badly on both the edible plant quiz and some stupidly simple knots. But she kept trying, and she seemed to learn from her mistakes.

"And when you couple that with the fact that, despite how uninspiring her performance was, she still tested better on the important stuff than Julie or Reid did, and they both got two's, we had no choice but to give her a three."

"Very well.

"And Quills?"

"We gave Quills a five do in large part to his ingenuity and imagination.

"I mean, we don't foresee many, if any, circumstances where the ability to build a makeshift hang glider out of random crap he found laying around the training center being useful. But it does show that he's more than capable of thinking big and out of the box at the same time. And at the end of the day, that has to count for something."

"That it does.

"So, I have Saralee down for a three, and Quills down for a five.

"And seeing as I have no issue with those scores, I think it's time for us to move on to District Ten.

"Gregor."

"District Ten, home to a shit load of cows, chickens, and pigs. As well as Piper Anneliese Lark, and our zero tribute Mr. Mazeem Law.

"I believe it was assigned to drones J and O. The latter of whom being the one who submitted Mazeem for his zero.

"Gentleman..?"

"Thank you, sir.

"So, I've already gone over why J and I decided to give Mazeem a zero. So I'm just going to go ahead and save us all some time by passing the torch to my partner. Who would be more than happy to explain why we decided to give Piper a seven.

"J?"

"So the main reason we gave Piper a seven is that she's incredibly proficient. No matter what it was she was doing, be it hacking dummies to holograms to death with her cleaver, starting a fire, building a shelter, or something as mundane and boring as sorting edible grasses and berries, she always did it like it was the most important thing she could ever possibly do.

"Couple that with her smarts and her above average ability to turn that cleaver into an extension of her own arm, and she's easily deserving of a seven.

"The only reason we didn't score her higher is that dedication, as commendable as it was, didn't always translate to proficiency. And at times, proficiency is just as important, if not more, then anything else is. Especially in the arena."

"Fantastic. Thank you, J.

"Now, I believe our next district is Eleven. And if I've been paying attention as well as I think I have, I believe that Gregor assigned that district to the individuals I've so colorfully renamed drone K and drone N."

"That he did, ma'am. And on behalf of myself and drone K, I'd like to thank you for selecting us to be a part of your team this year."

"Yeah, I didn't pick any of you. That was my predecessor.

"But, you know, you're welcome and all that."

"Oh… well, in that case, I… I um… Never mind.

"So, as you correctly ascertained, drone K and I were assigned to watch the District Eleven tributes extra closely this year. And after doing so, we decided to award the female tribute, Lexy Bloom, a four. While we gave her male partner, Euonymus Flax, a five.

"K..?"

"Our reasoning with both tributes scores is relatively straightforward. Both Lexy and Euonymus spent most of her training time on edible plants and knives, with the occasional sojourn to things like the rock wall or the obstacle course mixed in for good measure. And the truth of the matter is, neither one of them exactly blew us away with the limited skills they decided to show us.

"I mean, Lexy breezed through the plant test, but having spent as much time on it as she did that was to be expected. Couple that with her rudimentary knife combat skills, and it was hard for us to score her any higher than we did.

"The same was true of Euonymus. He breezed through the plant test, but then he stumbled and bumbled, though not as badly as Lexy did, his way through the knife course. Which made it hard for us to give him anything higher than the five we did."

"Very well.

"I'd love to get into this a bit deeper because I sense there might be more to him then you're letting on, but I don't really have the time to do so. So I'm going to ask you both this once and once only.

"Is this really the score you want to give Euonymus? Or are you low-balling him because you're not sure that something else you saw or picked up on should be included in your decision-making process?"

"It's… It's the score we want to give him, ma'am.

"RIght, N?"

"Yes."

I can tell they're lying. But like I said, I really don't care enough to get into this with them. Especially not when it should be super easy for me to sell a nerdy tribute from a nowhere District like Eleven getting a five to the masses.

"Alright then.

"Last up we have District Twelve. And since drones L and M are the only ones who haven't reported yet, I'll just go ahead and assume this is their assigned district."

"It is, ma'am. And I must say, M and I had a blast watching Cora and Ash come into their own over the last few days."

"I'm sure you did. But if you could kindly get to the scores, I would appreciate it."

"Of course.

"Well, to make a long story short, M and I decided to award Cora a score of four and Ash a score of nine.

"M?"

"Our main thinking with Cora was that she had a decent day three and a super impressive individual session, where she proved that she has more than enough strength to beat the ever loving crap out of someone with that mace if they're stupid enough to get that close, but an absolutely dreadful days one and two. Which is an incredibly harsh thing to say, but the only truly appropriate way to describe a tribute spending nearly two full days pumping the trainers for information on the Capitol.

"It's almost like she woke up on day three and finally realized she had to learn something that she could show us, and picked the easiest thing to learn. And while it was more than enough to save her from getting a two or a three, it wasn't nearly enough to justify a five or higher."

"I agree. We have to place some emphasis on the overall body of work and not just zero in on how they performed during the session. Excellent work.

"What about Ash?"

"In all honesty, Ash ended up being a little harder to peg then Cora was.

"One day he was playing stupid and intentionally trying to mess up a simple knot or trap, before savagely crushing the life out of any training dummy or hologram unfortunate enough to cross his path. And the next he was zipping from survival station to survival station and mastering advanced level stuff with little to no effort before heading over to the grappling mat and getting his ass handed to him by one of the slower and weaker trainers.

"But after seeing the way he handled himself during his session, where he flowed from survival station to survival station with ease before damn near breaking the floor of the simulator on the follow through with his final hammer swing. It became apparent that he was messing up on purpose so none of his fellow tributes would realize just how dangerous he really is.

"Which, unfortunately, will end up being for naught after everyone sees that we gave him a nine."

"I have to admit, I expected at least one outer district tribute to score higher than some of the career did, but I didn't expect it to be Ash.

"However, your logic is sound so I'm not going to question it. Fantastic job, M. You too, L. You should both be very proud of yourselves."

"Oh, we are, ma'am."

"And that goes for all of you. I'm proud of the work and the effort you put into doing this job. It's not easy and I do appreciate it.

"And to show you just how much I appreciate it, I'm turning you over to Gregor. Who, despite his desire to get hammered out of his mind with the rest of you, will be in charge of making sure none of you gets too drunk at the little post training slash pre-game celebration party we threw together to thank you.

"So go and have fun, but save a few drinks for me."

God knows I'm going to need them after I'm done with Lanteia.

* * *

 **A/N: So I don't have a whole lot to say about this chapter, other than that, I'm so happy that it's done and we're now just one step away from the start of the Games. So buckle up and get ready for what I hope is going to be one hell of a fun ride.**

 **I'm also curious as to how you liked the different format, I like it myself because of the different perspective and insight it provides, but I'm curious as to what you all though. I'm also excited to hear what everyone thinks of the scores, so I look forward to reading your comments and seeing all of your happy and smiling faces at the next update with equal enthusiasm :D**

Girls

Boys

D1F- Isabelle Price (8)

D1M- Bijou Devon (6)

D2F- Tartarus Katsaros (9)

D2M- Bacchus Jaguar (8)

D3F- Iridessa Parks (4)

D3M- Joss Stellan (3)

D4F- Pearl Caspian (9)

D4M- Sandor Torrent (8)

D5F- Nira Valli (7)

D5M- Cliff Roseo (7)

D6F- Reid Stitchell (2)

D6M- Axel Bishop (7)

D7F- Julie van Vigne (2)

D7M- Ives Dusket (8)

D8F- Annalee Tack (6)

D8M- Kylon Warwick (5)

D9F- Saralee Spelt (3)

D9M- Quills Danelhayr (5)

D10F- Piper Anneliese Lark (7)

D10M- Mazeem Law (0)

D11F- Lexy Bloom (4)

D11M- Euonymus Flax (5)

D12F- Cora Arrowood (4)

D12M- Ash Colton (9)


	31. The Calm Before the Storm

**James Wild (District 10 Mentor and Reigning Hunger Games Champion)**

I just wish I knew what in the heck it is I'm supposed to be doing right now. I mean, I have a pretty good idea of what I think I should be doing. Which is looking for and securing the support of as many sponsors for my tributes, or in this case tribute as I'm pretty sure Mazeem is actively trying to sabotage his already slim chances of surviving, as I possibly can in what little time I have left before the Games start.

The only problem with that, and it's kind of a biggie, is that I don't have the slightest idea of where to even look for sponsors, let alone how to court them properly. And the person who's supposed to be helping me with that sort of stuff, my partner Wren, has no interest in actually doing so right now.

No, she'd much rather hang out and drink with the other "career" mentors, who seem to be having the most refined and proper of shindigs smack dab in the middle of a much larger mentor and escort get together.

In fact, all of my fellow mentors are here, and each of them seems hell-bent on celebrating the night away harder than the guy or girl next to them, instead of doing their actual job. And while I do understand why they might feel the need to unwind like this every now and then. Especially in the aftermath of what everyone in the room, be they mentor or escort, is calling one of the smoothest and most entertaining interview segments in generations.

But I can't for the life of me understand why they'd be doing it now. Especially when they should be out there trying to build on their tributes successful interviews.

"You doing ok, kid?"

I'm not proud to admit this, but I'm so lost in my own world that I've become so oblivious to my own surroundings that I leap out of my chair in shock, damn near upending my little table in the process, as those three little words slither past my ear defenses and alert my brain to the fact someone is talking to me. The fact that he approached me on my blind side, to begin with, only made it that much easier for him to take me by surprise.

Also, and this is unrelated in the grand scheme of things, I really do hope at least someone in the room thinks my jumping up and yelping was just a super annoying and childish attempt to get the attention of one of the avox server. Instead of the frightened outburst of the young man they already don't take as seriously as I'd like them too that it was.

"Sorry, kid. I didn't mean to startle you."

"It's OK…?"

"Onyx. My name is Onyx. I'm the District Twelve mentor."

"That's right.

"I'm James. The newest District Ten mentor."

"I know who you are, kid. I mean, not only have we met once before during your victory tour, but I did kind of watch you win last year. After all, I did have at least one tribute in the Games for the first little while."

"Oh, I know. And I didn't mean to imply that you… What I was trying to say is…"

"Would you please chill out kid. I'm just having fun.

"Which, and this may not be my place but I'm going to go ahead and say it anyway because you look like you really need to hear it, is something you should really consider doing. You know, before you give yourself an ulcer, or worse, a freaking stroke."

"That's a great suggestion, and if this were the time or the place for me to be having fun, I would be. But it's not."

"Trust me, kid, if there was ever a time or a place for someone in your position to cut loose and have a little fun. This is it."

"How can you say that? How can you honestly expect me to "have fun" when I should be out there looking for a way to sell my tributes training scores and interview answers to potential sponsors?"

I'm not sure what it was about my question, which I happen to think is a very serious and important one to ask, that Onyx finds funny, but there has to be something. I mean, that's the only excuse for him to be smiling like a fool and laughing under his breath as I stare at him intently, waiting like a fool for him to collect himself and answer my question.

Or, at least I was waiting until his flippant dismissal of my question caused me to lose my cool and all but demand he tell me what's so freaking funny and answer my freaking question. Which, if I'm being honest, is a little unfair to him as I'm actually madder at myself for not forcing Wren to have this conversation with me at some point then I am at the fact that Onyx is laughing at me. But that's neither here nor there.

"What in the hell is so funny? I mean, am I missing something super obvious about what's going on that I shouldn't be? Or is the fact that I'd rather be doing my job instead of partying really that funny to you?"

"It's a bit of both actually."

"What do you mean it's a bit of both?"

"Let try and explain.

"Look over there at the career mentors. Who do you see?"

"Um, the career mentors."

"Right, but who else?"

"The District One escort, my escort, and a mint-green skinned man and woman I've never seen before in my life."

"OK.

"Now, that man and woman, are the most prolific spending sponsor couple in the entire country. They regularly supply the career alliance with enough cash that their mentors could buy them anything they might want or need. And all he asks in return, is the chance to spend a relaxing evening with the mentors of the tributes they sponsor BEFORE the emotional highs and lows of the Games proper take hold and ruin the, "festive" atmosphere."

"OK, that sort of explains that the career mentors are doing. What about everyone else? Shouldn't they be working instead of drinking?"

"Most of them are.

"Verity, in direct opposition to her father's express wishes, is working overtime with Nikolai trying to pry secondary sponsors away from the main career alliance in favor of the outcast career alliance.

"Which is doubly impressive on Nikolai's part as he's also trying to drum up support for his female tribute Nira, who's one of the early non-career favorites to go all the way.

"Thomas is doing everything he can to drum up support for his tributes via the District Eight unity angle.

"Violetta is trying to turn Euonymus revelation that he's a published author and one of the greatest crop growing minds in the history of Panem into viable mid to late game sponsor support.

"And everyone else, with the exception of Zefram who's trying to come up with a way to spin Reid's twisted fascination with death as a positive thing. And Johanna, who's been pulling her hair out of her head trying to explain why Julie took off her clothes and spent five minutes running around the stage in her underwear. Are drinking and having fun because our tributes managed to get through their interviews without fucking up or saying something stupid."

"Seriously? You're drinking because your tributes did the bare minimum and didn't screw up their interviews?"

"Of course we are.

"And as hard as this may be to believe. And you'll learn more about this as you gain years and experience in this gig. But as a mentor, you never want to waste an opportunity to celebrate the fact your tributes made it through something important without stumbling. Especially as an outer district mentor.

"Because as unfortunate as it may be, and as hard as it may be for you to believe, those opportunities really are going to be few and far between."

I don't… I don't know what I'm supposed to say. I mean, I always sort of assumed that stupid stuff like this would end up being a part of my job as a mentor. But I never imagined for a second that any of it would end up being so… so freaking important.

But more than that, I can't believe that Wren never told me any of this. I get that she's juggling a lot right now, what with basically being a solo mentor while I try to learn the ropes and find my footing in what is turning out to be a significantly more involved, difficult, and unimaginably complex job than I originally thought it would be. But that doesn't even begin to excuse the fact that she didn't tell me any of this, which I would imagine she would think I need to know, ahead of time.

But I guess I can worry about that later. You know, after the Games are over and we've had enough time to mourn our dead and possibly celebrate our victor and all that. So, sometime just before the start of the victory tour, I guess.

"Look, kid, I can tell you're still struggling with this.

"So, why don't you come with me to the bar and get a drink. And then I'll walk you through the hilariously enjoyable but detestable process of trying to convince an overly liquored up sponsor to invest in your long shot outer district tribute.

"Because as hard as it may be to believe. There is a science to the art of convincing a drunk person to promise to financially support your tribute should he or she end up needing it…"

* * *

 **A/N: And that, boys and girls, is that. After 31 chapters, some of which were so much longer than I'd intended them to be, and a boat load of waiting around for me to get my butt in gear, we're finally here. That's right folks, it's finally time for the Games to begin. And I can't wait to show you all what I have in store there.**

 **Also, because I know this is going to come up, the reason I decided to go this route instead of posting an interview chapter, is because I've sort of already told you everything there is to know about most of the tributes. My tendency to jam pack as much backstory as I possibly can into every chapter came back to bite me. And after I got about 2/3rds of the way through the chapter I was originally going to write, I realized that I had 6,500 words of story that I had already told you at least twice. And seeing as no one wants to reread a bunch of stuff they've already read, I decided to go this route and try to show off how I imagine the mentors might go about unwinding and recruiting sponsors in the aftermath of a successful pre-game journey. So I hope you all enjoyed it.**

 **But enough about that, it's time to start getting ready for the Games, and I'm super excited to see what everyone thinks about that. Who do you think will come out on top? How many bloodbath deaths will we have? Who will be the first tribute to die? Who will be the tribute no one expects to make it past day one that ends up going deep into the games? What is the arena going to look like? WHat about the mutts? All these questions and more will be answered at the next update, where I hope to see all of your smiling faces as we dive head first into the blood, guts, and glory that is, the 105th Hunger Games!**


	32. Anticipation

**Centaura Vale (Head Gamemaker)**

"My god, those outfits are absolutely atrocious. I mean, I sort of expected that the outfits were going to be bad, we threw them together in such a short amount of time that there was no way in hell they could have possibly been good. But I never dreamed that they would be this bad."

"I don't see what the problem is ma'am. I think they look good."

"Well, of course, YOU think they look good, Gregor. You have absolutely no taste when it comes to clothes and even less style.

"That's why I replaced you as overseer of the arena outfit planning team. Remember?"

"Oh I remember, and everything you said about me is true. I have no taste and even less style.

"But that doesn't change the fact that these outfits are not only better than you give them credit for, but also exactly what they need to be.

"They may not be stylish. But they are functional. And most importantly, they're super appropriate for this particular arena design.

"Also, and I know you don't care about this as much as an old fogy like me does, but some of the tributes look amazing in their outfit. I mean, the little girl from Seven looks so freaking adorable that I think I might actually cry."

Leave it to Gregor to use something as stupid and insignificant as how cute one tribute out of twenty-four looks in her arena outfit as a way to derail my perfectly good bitch session about how hideously atrocious I think the arena outfits are.

Because even though he's not wrong, the girl from Seven does look stupidly adorable in her slightly oversized brown overalls and that forest-green shirt. Even if she is only wearing the overalls because we couldn't find a belt small enough for her. The last thing I want to do right now is be talked back off the ledge. I'm wound up way to tight for that right now.

And since the only way I can come up with to unwind and back down off of the ledge is to bitch and moan about something for the next two or so minutes. That's the only thing in the world I actually feel like doing right now. Because once those few minutes are up, the Games start. And once the Games start, I won't be able to so much as consider thinking about anything else until they're over.

"Look, Centaura, you need to relax. Take a deep breath and at least try to enjoy this last brief moment of calm before we unleash hell on these kids."

"I wish I could, Gregor, I really do.

"But every time I try to, I think of something else I could or should have done to make things even better. LIke, you know, but some actual time and effort into the arena outfits.

"I mean seriously, I've got twenty-four tributes who are about to get into the tubes who look like they're dressed in something we pulled out of the District Ten parade outfit reject bin."

"You know, you might be right about that last part. But that doesn't matter anymore.

"Because there's not a damn thing you can do about it."

"Don't sugar coat it for me or anything, Gregor."

"Oh, you'll never have to worry about that with me ma'am. I guarantee that I'll never sugarcoat anything this important for you."

"Oh joy. And here I was worrying that you might be secretly harboring a softer side of yourself that didn't want me to have a panic attack over all of this

"Well, I'm not.

"But in all seriousness, you do need to chill out a bit before you actually have a panic attack, ma'am."

"If only it were that easy, Gregor. If only."

"It kind of is...

"OK, look. The outfits are just fine. Are they perfect, no? But no arena outfit ever is.

"And before you start fretting over something else stupid, the arena is as perfect as you could possibly make it in the time you had. And the mutts are especially vicious and insanely devious this year.

"So why don't you stop worrying and come over here with me and watch the tributes, who are loading into the tubes as we speak, as they and everyone else in Panem are treated to their first glimpse of your very first arena as a head gamemaker?"

I don't, I don't know how to respond to that. I mean, I'm still super nervous about how all of my hard work is going to be perceived by the public. And there's nothing in the world Gregor can say to change that. But he is right. There's not a damn thing I can do about any of this now. So I might as well at least try to enjoy what is going to be the single most important moment of my life, never mind my career, up to this point.

Even if I would prefer to be pulling my hair out of my head and screaming to the heavens about how ugly I think these stupid arena outfits are.

"OK.

"But after all of this is said and done. I'm going to get absolutely hammered and bitch about everything I wish I had done better. And you're going to sit there and listen to me.

"Deal?"

"Deal.

"Now would you hurry up and get over here?! The first tributes are about to crest into your arena!"

* * *

 **A/N: OK, so this wasn't originally going to be a stand alone chapter. It was going to be part of the much larger and action packed Bloodbath chapter. But after looking at it, I decided that I didn't like the way it made that chapter flow, never mind the symmetry issues including it brought up, so I decided to move it out and make it into a standalone chapter.**

 **Consider it one final teaser to wet your appetites before we smash head first into the Games proper. Which, baring some sort of unforeseeable calamity, or the sudden appearance of a shiny object, I intend to post in all its bloody glory by the end of this week! IE Friday or Saturday. So I hope all of you are ready for the ride of your life. Because it's finally here!**


	33. All Hell Breaks Loose(Bloodbath)

**Quills Danelhayr-17 (D9M)**

My god it's hot in the arena. I thought it was hot inside of that stupid launching tube, and in all fairness to the tube it really was unnecessarily hot inside of it. But after spending all of five seconds standing out here in the open, I'd kill to be back inside of the tube. If only because it would give me the chance to get out of this heat. And don't even get me started on the wind.

I mean seriously, the heat is bad enough on its own. But when you add wind to the mix, it makes the heat ten times worse. And when you couple that with the stupid amount of dust it kicks up each time it whips across the small lake, which is really more of a pond than it is a lake, that surrounds me, the cornucopia, and my twenty-three soon to be enemies on three sides. The wind starts to give the heat a run for its money as the worst thing about this arena.

Then again, it is possible that my hungover and sleep deprived state is making things seem more annoying than they really are. Which I guess I have only myself to blame for…

"Attention tributes. This is your Head Gamemaker speaking.

"Please allow me to be the first to welcome you to this year's arena and to wish you good luck in this, the One Hundred and Fifth Hunger Games.

"May the odds be ever in your favor."

….Thirty….

….Twenty-Nine….

….Twenty-Eight….

….Twenty-Seven….

….Twenty-Six….

Oh my god, this is really happening. I'm in the Hunger Games and all I have are the clothes on my back and a hangover. What in the hell am I going to do..?

….Twenty-Five….

….Twenty-Four….

….Twenty-Three….

….Twenty-Two….

….Twenty-One….

OK, I've got a pair of dark-brown levi type pants. A light-brown, long-sleeve button up shirt. A leather belt. A pair of super comfy hiking boots. And a can do attitude being supplied by an adrenaline rush from hell.

None of which is even sort of useful right now. I mean, I guess I could pull off my belt and use it to choke someone. Which is a luxury that some of the other tributes who ended up with overalls instead of pants don't have. But it's still not exactly useful.

….Twenty….

….Nineteen….

….Eighteen….

….Seventeen….

….Sixteen….

OK. What are my surroundings?!

I see, sagebrush and dirt on the ground in front of me. And behind me is… even more sagebrush and dirt. As well as what I'm pretty sure are the charred remains of a farm. At least I think it was a farm. It might have been a ranch.

Not that it actually matters…

….Fifteen….

….Fourteen….

….Thirteen….

….Twelve….

….Eleven….

FOCUS QUILLS! For the love of god, FOCUS!

Behind the water and the burned down farm is yet another a massive stretch of sagebrush and weed covered dirt and...

Oh my god, there are buildings back there! Not burnt out husks, but honest to god buildings! That's fantastic!

Because buildings mean shelter. And possibly supplies. Which means I don't have to rush to the cornucopia like everyone else and risk getting killed. I just have to make sure I get away from the people around me...

….Ten….

….Nine….

….Eight….

….Seven….

….Six….

So, who's around me then?

To my right is the girl from Six. She's not a threat. She'll be too busy trying to track down Saralee and her other allies to notice me. I can ignore her.

To me left is… shit! The girl from Four!

She's going to be a problem. I can't make a break for it until I know she's in no condition to stop me from escaping. And the only way I can do that is to kill her. And I don't even know where to begin with something like that.

….Five….

I guess I could try a blitz attack on her. Just jump off my pedestal as soon as the games start and take her out before she even knows I'm there.

….Four….

But that's awful risky…

….Three….

But it's also my only choice…

….Two….

So I'm just going to have to do it and hope I get lucky…

….One….

Please, GOD let me get lucky…

….ZERO….

As soon as the Z in zero leaves the announcers mouth I pounce. Letting my most basic and primal survival instincts take full control I leap off my pedestal and sprint as hard and fast as I can in the direction of the girl from Four. Silently praying that I'll be able to close the few yards of distance between the two of us before she realizes I'm a threat. And for an all to brief second, I start to believe that I might…

But that second is over in an instant. And by the time I finally realize that she's seen me coming, it's already to late. And she effortlessly sidesteps my charge before dropping down into a crouch and using her leg to sweep my feet out from beneath me. Using my own momentum to send me crashing head and shoulder first into the side of her recently vacated pedestal with a disgusting sounding thud.

But it doesn't end there. And after giving me a second or two to ponder the utter stupidity of my decision to attack a career, she drops the hammer. She walks up behind me and grabs a handful of my hair and jerks me up off the ground. Lines me up at eye level with the curved edge of her launch plate. And begins to smash my face into the warm, blood soaked steel again… and again… and again… Until at long last, her final, bone jarring blow turns the lights out forever and sends me racing off into the abyss…

….BOOM….

* * *

 **Lexy Bloom-17 (D11F)**

Supplies and a weapon Lexy. All you need to do is get a hold of one decent sized bag of supplies and a weapon. Then you can get the hell out of here and find a safe place to lie low while these brutes beat one another to a pulp over the next few days.

Of course, it's not really that simple. There are plenty of weapons strewn around the far edge of the cornucopia, and almost as many bags of supplies. But I don't just need any weapon, I need a weapon I know how to use. Just like I don't need just any bag of supplies so much as I need a bag full of supplies that I can actually use.

Which is why I'm still here, sneaking around the edge of the kill zone, instead of out there putting as much distance between me and this soon to be blood-soaked patch of hell as I possibly can. Because I know for a fact that I'm going to need more than just a wooden club, a metal stick with a button on the end of it, an empty canteen, and a sleeping bag if I want to make it out of this mess alive.

And since there's no guarantee that I'll be able to find supplies once I'm out in the arena proper. Nor is it very likely that I'll be able to come back to the cornucopia and scavenge for stuff after the killing is done. I have to make sure that I get everything I need now. While I still have a chance.

Of course, it would be a heck of a lot easier for me to find the crap I'm looking for if I didn't have to keep stopping every couple of seconds to scan the area for threats…

PAY DIRT!

A huge black and green backpack, stuffed full of all sorts of mystery supplies, with a knife filled sheath on one strap and a compass on the other! There's even an open duffel bag full of what I think is fruit sitting just about a foot away from it on a small rock!

I can't believe how lucky I am. And after spending what was probably all of a fraction of a second trying to maintain my composure, I let my guard down and sprint off in the direction of my newfound wealth. Which quickly leaves me completely and totally oblivious to everyone and everything around me. Including any of the other tributes who might have also been hanging around the area in search of a life-saving bounty of supplies like the one I just found. And are no zeroed in on and sprinting towards the same spot I am with the same stupidly reckless, I have to do this in order to survive attitude I have.

Not that any of that actually matters to me anymore. At that point, I'm committed. I either get both bags of supplies, killing anyone stupid enough to get in my way, or I die trying. I can worry about avoiding conflict and continuing to become a better person AFTER I'm safe and well supplied.

In fact, I'm so focused on this, that I don't even notice someone has already beaten me to the duffel bag of food and started towards my backpack until they reach down and grab the strap with the compass on it at the exact same time I reach down and grab the knife bearing strap.

"Let go of my bag, you stupid bitch!"

I look up and immediately recognize the snarling face of the boy from Twelve. Quickly locking onto his anger and fury filled dark-blue eyes as he continues to fight me tooth and nail for the bag. Letting fly a string of curses and insults the likes of which I pray no one listing back home in Eleven can hear him throwing at me as he does.

It quickly becomes too much for me, and on an impulse, I take my free hand and rip my newly acquired knife out of its strap mounted sheath and begin to swing wildly in Ash's general direction. Until finally connecting on a strike, slicing through the sleeve of his black shirt and leaving behind a decently deep but mostly superficial gash on his right arm. Causing him to let go of the bag and howl in shocked anger as I spin around and sprint away from him and the rapidly unfolding carnage as quickly as I possibly can.

But I'm not fast enough. And after a few seconds of running, during which I stupidly allowed myself to hope that I might actually be able to get away, my ears start to pick up the ever-increasing volume of Ash's labored breathing and pounding steps as he tries to chase me down.

And it's in that moment, with Ash hot on my heels, that I feel myself slip on the loose and grainy dirt beneath my feet. Giving Ash all the opportunity he needs to reach out and grab the stupid braid my stylist insisted I put my hair in and yank back as hard as he can. Ripping more than half of my hair out of my head by the root and sending me sprawling to the ground with an almost primal sounding shriek of pain and terror.

Fortunately, I guess, I'm not in pain for very long. And within seconds of hitting the ground, I feel, and through my tear blocked eyes sort of see, Ash as he moves over me and drops his full weight down on top of my stomach. Pinning me to the ground and eliminating any small chance I might have had of escape. Before slowly and angrily wrapping his shaking hands around my throat and squeezing for all he's worth.

Allowing him to slowly but surely bleeding the last few drops of life out of my pain-wracked body.

….BOOM….

* * *

 **Piper Anneliese Lark-16 (D10F)**

Part of me can't believe just how quickly and easily we managed to secure the cornucopia. I mean, I understand that no one, not even the career outcasts, is stupid enough to think that they can actually stop the careers from securing the cornucopia. But I sort of expected at least a few of the more desperate and thick-skulled tributes to try and put up a fight. Or at the very least, for some of the quicker and more elusive ones to try and sneak in and raid the supplies before we locked everything down.

But outside of the admirably brave but still monumentally stupid girl from Twelve, who managed to out sprint all of us and secured two duffel bags of supplies and what I'm pretty sure is a freaking stun baton, before turning around and running gut first into the tip of Sandor's spear, no one but us has come within thirty feet of the cornucopia. And considering everyone in the area can see what Sandor did to that poor girl from Twelve, whose throat he did eventually slit after taunting her for thinking she could get away with stealing supplies from the careers, I don't think anyone is going to be stupid enough to try making a run on the cornucopia.

Which means, unfortunately, Isabelle is going to want us to grab a weapon and go hunt down our assigned career outcast. As well as some of the other tributes who are desperately trying to scavenge whatever they can from the outskirts and flee before we decide to make a move on them. While we still have the chance.

Which means I better go grab Axel and start looking for Cliff before he manages to find his friends and escapes our unimaginably stupid and unworkable trap. I mean seriously, why in the hell did Sandor and Isabelle think that the outcasts would stupid enough to try and bum rush us like a bunch of morons?!

"There you are, Piper. I was beginning to worry."

"Axel. I was just about to come and find you."

"Well, I guess I saved you the trouble.

"Here, take this machete and let's go. I think I saw Cliff and Bijou over on the far side trying to find a way across the edge of the pond."

"Shouldn't we go and get Bacchus and Isabelle first?

"I mean, Bijou is THERE responsibility after all. And Isabelle was pretty adamant that she should be the one to kill him."

"There's no time.

"Besides, the two of us can handle the two of them no problem."

I wish I was even half as sure about or chances against Cliff and Bijou as Axel is. But even though I'm not, he is right about one thing. We don't have enough time to go track down Bacchus and Isabelle. So we're either going to have to chance it, or let them get away. And there's no way in heck I'm going to fail my first big test as a career.

"You're right, let's go get them."

It takes every ounce of my self-control not to grin back at Axel as he beams down at me with that self-satisfied, shit-eating grin on his face. And after taking a quick second to test the sharpness of my new machete, spoiler alert, it's sharp as hell. The two of us set out in the general direction of where Axel last saw Cliff and Bijou so we can begin our search.

The only problem is, we don't get all that far, we might have covered half the distance at most, before a rock comes screaming out of nowhere and slams into the side of my head. Ripping and surprised and pain-filled yelp out of my throat and opening a decently sized gash on the side of my head that's currently oozing blood in a slow but steady trickle.

"DID YOU THINK I WOULDN'T TRY AND MAKE GOOD ON MY PROMISE TO YOU PIPER?"

The scream, despite being nearly unhearable at this distance and with my head throbbing loudly because of the fracking rock, is still loud and demanding enough to catch my attention. And after spending a fraction of a second scanning the area that I think it came from, my eyes catch sight of and lock onto the smugly grinning figure of Mazeem. An inactive stun baton in one hand and a second, slightly bigger, rock being passively tossed up and down like a ball in the other.

"Piper, are you OK?!"

"I'm fine, Axel. At least I will be after my head stops throbbing."

"That's good.

"Do you… Do you want me to go take care of Mazeem for you?"

"I… NO… I mean, no. Thank you, but no.

"I can handle him.

"Provided you're OK with trying to take down Cliff and Bijou without me."

"Hey, I can handle them. You go take care of that stupid little punk who called you out. And we'll exchange war stories after we're done.

"Though, I will be ahead of you in the kill count."

"I'll be more than happy to play catch up if it means I get to wipe that smug look off Mazeem's face forever."

"Then go wipe it off."

* * *

 **Mazeem Law-14 (D10M)**

For a second there I didn't think Piper was going to take my bait. But after talking to her brutish thug of an ally for a few seconds, and using the sleeve of her mud-brown colored shirt to wipe some of the blood off her face, she finally turns her attention to me. Giving me ample reason to smile as she rips her machete out of its sheath and starts my way at a slow trot.

And even though I know I shouldn't be excited about this fight, I can't seem to stop myself from being excited about it either. I mean, I've spent the last few days listening to my mentors and my escort drone on and on about how lucky Piper is to be a career, or how talented she is, or how good her chances are of winning. It was infuriating!

So now, I'm going to make them pay. I'm going to kill their superstar tribute, proving once and for all that she was less worthy of being a career than the guy who got a zero was, and depriving all of them of the chance to have back to back winners out of our district. That's the only thing in the world I want to do before I die. And I'm going to do everything in my power to make sure that she dies and that I'm the one who kills her.

So, with that goal in mind, I give her a few seconds to build up a good head of steam before rearing back and chucking my rock at her with everything I've got. And while I'm not nearly a good enough shot to hit her at a dead sprint for a second time, the fact that I hit her the first time was a certifiable miracle, my throw does force her to slow down and change direction ever so slightly.

Which means that instead of charging me head-on like she was, she's now coming at me from a slight angle on my strong side. Which is all the advantage someone like me needs to win a fight with someone like Piper.

So I quickly adjust my grip on my stun baton, passively and what I sort of hope is noticeably press the button to turn it on, and rear back with all my might to meet Piper's onslaught with a shocking attack of my own.

And that's exactly what I do.

Piper gets in close to me, entirely too close for her machete to be as effective as it could be, and starts hacking and slashing away with a fire I didn't know she possessed. But it's all for not as I simply step in even closer, raising up and driving my knee into her gut and knocking the wind out of her with a pleasant-sounding umph, before rearing back jamming my baton into the center of her chest. Unleashing a torrent of electricity which quickly turns her into nothing more than a twitching, spasm filled mess.

But I don't stop there. I pull my baton back and hit her again, and again, and again, peppering her body with a series of short but uber intense jolts of skin searing electricity. I'm really starting to get into it until someone sneaks up behind me and bashes me in the back with a club that is.

That's more than enough to end my assault on Piper as it sends me crashing to the ground in a heap and my only weapon goes skidding across the weed and brush filled dirt.

"ARE YOU OK, PIPER!?"

"Who the… Bacchus?!"

"Were you expecting someone else?"

"No. But I also wasn't expecting anyone at all."

"Yeah. Well, Isabelle and I were looking for Bijou when we saw you getting your ass kicked. So she sent me over to help while she keeps searching.

"Are you sure you're OK?"

"I'm fine. Just help me get this ass to his feet so I can finish this. Then we can go help Isabelle look for Axel and the outcasts. He had a bead on two of them before we split up."

"Sounds like a plan.

"So, where do you want this guy?"

"Just get him up on his knees and give me a clean shot at his neck. I'll take care of the rest."

So close, I was so close to proving them all wrong about me. But close isn't good enough. And now I'm going to have met my maker knowing that Piper was the one who sent me to meet him. But that doesn't mean I have to make it easy on her or her stupid savior.

And I don't. But all my struggling is just for show at this point. And while I do manage to get a solid cheap shot in on Bacchus's groin, it only phases him for a second. And Piper is standing right there to punch me in the face, shattering my nose and bringing a swift end to my pitiful resistance.

From there things are simple. I look down at the ground and zero in on the spot where the blood that's now streaming out of my broken nose is hitting the ground and count the drops as Bacchus pulls back my hair and give Piper the clean shot at my neck that she wanted. The last thing I see in life is one more drop hitting the small pool of blood, and the last thing I hear is Piper's angry, ragged, and pain-filled breathing as she clumsily draws her machete back and brings it swooshing down on the back of my neck…

….BOOM….

* * *

 **Bijou Devon-17 (D1M)**

I wasn't sure how much longer Cliff and I were going to be able to keep Axel at bay. I mean, I'm a passably decent fighter, and Cliff isn't exactly a pushover or anything, but not even the two of us combined can match Axel's strength. And since we were stupid and backed ourselves into a corner by the edge of the lake, which surrounded us on three sides by water and one side by Axel, neither of us can use our speed advantage to wear him down.

Things looked bad. Until Tartarus, whose fault it was that we were in a fight with Axel in the first place, returned from his weapon and supply gathering mission and swooped in and saved the day by burying his ax in the middle of Axel's back. Ending him and giving the three of us a chance to catch our breath and take stock of the situation before getting the hell out of here while we still can.

Not that Cliff, who should want to get his ass out of here just as badly as I do, seems all that interested in doing so right now. No, he's much more interested in mumbling angrily under his breath and shooting pissed-off looking glances at Tartarus than he is in getting the hell out of here. The fact that Tartarus seems just as willing to stand here and argue with Cliff as Cliff is with him, only makes this already dangerous situation that much worse.

"If you've got something to say to me than man up and say it, Cliff."

"What the hell took you so long, Tartarus?

"Did you go out for supplies or freaking a spa weekend?!"

"I went for supplies.

"And for the record, I told you not to wait for me here because it was too exposed."

"And if we had listened to you and ran off and hid instead of waiting as we did, there would have been no way for you to find us."

"I would have found you guys."

"No, you wouldn't have."

"Yes, I would. A, I'm a better tracker than you give me credit for. And B, you're not nearly as good a hider as you think you are.

"Trust me, Cliff. It would have been EASY for me to find you guys."

Are they seriously having this argument? Like, seriously, seriously?

"Oh for the love of, would the two of you please just shut up?!

"I mean seriously, this is a fight the two of you can have AFTER we get out of here.

"So for the love of God, please, don't stand here and have it a few feet away from the body of a freaking career!"

"You're right, Bijou. We need to get out of here before the rest of the careers find us or someone else decides to get ballsy and take a shot at us.

"Cliff, grab one of the backpacks and that club and take point. Bijou, you take the other pack and the spear and hold the rear. I'll take care of all three of the duffel bags and the ax from the middle."

"Why do you get to be in the middle?"

"Seriously, Cliff?"

"What? It's a fair question."

"Oh for the love of. I'm taking the middle because I'm the best fighter. And being in the middle puts me in the best position to help either of you as needed. OK?"

"OK. You don't need to jump down my throat."

"I wouldn't have had to if you didn't feel the need to ask such a stupid freaking question."

"GUYS!?

"We need to get out of here. NOW!"

I can't believe I have to keep saying this. I mean seriously, the only reason we haven't been found and killed yet is that we're either stupidly lucky or just happen to be in a big enough group that no one but the full career group is brave and stupid enough to take a shot at us. And I'm really not in the mood to find out which one of the two of those is the truth.

"Bijou's right, let's get the hell out of here.

"MOVE!"

It takes us all of three seconds for us to gather our stuff and start to move. But we've wasted so much time standing around arguing that it doesn't matter how fast we do anything. Because no sooner have we started to move than I catch sight of Isabelle as she sprints as hard as she can towards us with the girl from Six and Bacchus trailing twenty or so yards behind her.

"TARTARUS!"

"Oh shit!

"RUN!"

I know that running is what I'm supposed to do. And every fiber of my being is screaming at me to do just that. But I know we can't.

Isabelle is faster than all of us, by a lot. So running away isn't going to help. We, or at the very least one of us, have to turn around and fight. Even if doing so means dying.

"TARTARUS, CLIFF, WAIT!"

"WHY!"

"Because we can't outrun her and you know it."

"We can try!"

"It won't work though.

"All running is going to do is make sure that we're too tired to fight once she and the others catch up with us."

"AND?!"

"And I'm going to stay back and try to give you guys time to escape."

"THAT IS THE STUPIDEST THING I'VE EVER HEARD!"

"No, it's not. Especially if you stop for a second and think.

"Look, we all know that Isabelle is faster than us. Just like we all know that I'm the slowest runner of the three of us. So she's going to catch and kill me whether I run from her or not.

"But if I stay here and fight. I get to die on my terms instead of hers AND give you guys a chance to escape."

"You're not going to sacrifice yourself, Bijou. I won't let you."

"Yes, you will. Because I'm not going to give you a choice."

I let that statement hang in the air for a fraction of a second before dropping my bag of supplies at his and Cliff feet and charging off towards Isabelle. My spear held tightly in both hands as tears of pain and fear stream out of my eyes, blurring my vision ever so slightly as I try to come to terms with the fact that I'm about to die. Taking a small but measurable amount of solace from the fact that Tartarus, the only person in my life whoever thought I was worth a damn and who helped me break out of my shell for a few short but glorious days is going to survive because of my sacrifice.

And that's exactly what it ends up being. Because within milliseconds of me closing to within thirty yards of Isabelle, she suddenly stops running. Causing me to follow suit and lock eyes with my one-time district partner before she casually pulls out a throwing knife and sends it zipping through the air. Giving me just enough time to look over my shoulder and confirm that my allies, my friends, have escaped before the blade lodges itself snugly in the side of my head and turns the lights out for good.

….BOOM….

* * *

 **Saralee Spelt-12 (D9F)**

"We need to leave, Reid. Like seriously."

"We've gone over this, Saralee. We're not leaving until Julie and Dessa get back with our supplies."

"And what if they don't come back? We can't just sit here forever and wait for them to show up."

"Would you relax? A, we haven't been waiting for all that long. B, the rubble we're hiding in is the perfect hiding place. And C, no one even knows we're here."

"That's only because we got lucky and you know it.

"I mean seriously, we'd be dead already if Euonymus's hadn't tried to make a break for it at the absolute worst possible time, tripping over a shittly hidden Joss in the process."

"You're right, Saralee. We are still alive because of good old fashioned dumb luck. But if dumb luck is what it takes to avoid getting stabbed in the heart with a spear-like Euonymus, or curb-stomped like Joss, then that's what it takes."

"That's not...That's not the point, Reid."

"Yes, it is."

"No, it's not!"

"Then what is the point, Saralee?"

"That our luck can only hold out for so long and we need to get the hell out of here before it runs out."

I don't get why this is so difficult for Reid to understand. I mean, I get that she likes Julie and Dessa, I really do. Heck, I like them just as much as she does. But the fact that she's willing to risk her life and mine waiting around for them on the off chance that one of the FIVE cannon blasts we heard between the time they left and the time Pearl killed Euonymus is just stupid and reckless.

Which, based on what little I've been able to learn about her in the last week, is so out of character for her that it's downright scary. Though, and I hate to admit this, even if it is just to myself, it's also more than a little bit comforting.

"Oh my God. Saralee? Saralee?!"

"What?"

"Guess who I see?"

"Julie and Dessa?!"

"Yep!"

"Where are they?"

"Exactly where I told them to be. Hiding behind that big tree next to the fence on the edge of the farm.

"See?!"

I do. And I absolutely can not believe it.

I mean, Reid was right. She sat tight and had faith that Julie and Dessa would be ok when all I wanted to do was run away and hide. I wanted her to abandon our allies. To abandon our friends. Just because the odds said they were dead. I used logic, she used her gut. And her gut won out.

"Hey, Earth to Saralee. Are you in there?!

"Did you hear what I just said?!"

"What?"

"I said I think it's time for us to go. You know, before the careers luck out and stumble across our little hidey-hole and skin us alive."

"That's a good idea, Reid."

"I know it is.

"So if you would kindly stop daydreaming and follow me. We need to go grab Dessa and Julie so we can do just that…"

* * *

 **A/N: And that, as they say, is that. It took a little over 5500 words, a year of planning, and eight incredibly gruesome and painful deaths, but the bloodbath is over and the Games are in full swing! And not only do I hope you all enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. I also hope you're ready for more. Because you haven't seen nothing yet!**

 **Death Order/Cause**

24- Quills Danelhayr-17 (D9M) - Head repeatedly bashed into Pearl's pedestal.

23- Lexy Bloom-17 (D11F) - Strangled by Ash with his bare.

22- Cora Arrowood-16 (D12F) - Stabbed in the gut by Sandor before having her throat slit.

21- Mazeem Law-14 (D10M) - Beheaded by a machete wielding Piper.

20- Axel Bishop-16 (D6M) - Axed in the back by Tartarus.

19- Bijou Devon-17 (D1M) - Killed by Isabelle with a throwing knife.

18- Euonymus Flax-18 (D11M) - Killed by Pearl with a spear through the heart.

17- Joss Stellan-16 (D3M) - Speared in the back and then curb stomped by Sandor.

 **Kill Total**

Pearl = 2

Sandor = 2

Ash = 1

Isabelle = 1

Piper = 1

Tartarus = 1


	34. Chaos and Regret(Day 1 Part 2)

**Annalee Tack-15 (D8F)**

Part of me can't help but wonder if Kylon and I made a massive mistake by just running away instead of hanging back and at least trying to get some semi-decent supplies. I mean, finding each other as quickly as we possibly could and then running away as fast and as hard as we could, seemed like the right thing to do at the time.

But now that we've gone and done it, I'm not so sure it was as good an idea as we thought it was.

I mean, would fighting in the bloodbath have been a lot more dangerous than just running away was? Of course, it would have. But I can't help but feel like the chance for us to score somehalf-way decent supplies would have been more than worth the risk.

Because even though there's a decent chance that we might accidentally stumble across something useful in one of these buildings we keep running past. The chances of that actually happening are so low that it's almost not worth mentioning.

Then again, I'm also not sure that it really matters.

I mean, I'm sure there are a few scenarios where the black mesh bag, three-foot spool of rope, small tan-colored tarp, and old school water purification kit I managed to snag on our way out could come in handy. But the only ones I can seem to come up with require us to have a bunch of important stuff that we just don't have. Like a knife, or something to hold the freaking water in while we purify it.

All of which means that at some point, we're either going to have to get stupidly lucky, which isn't likely. Or we're going to have to stop running away and start actively looking for anything of use the gamemakers might have hidden in the arena.

"Ky… Kylon… Stop… Please."

"Huh?"

"I said STOP!"

"Why?"

"Because I'm on the verge of hyperventilating and I said so."

I can tell by the look on his face that he's not exactly happy about doing so, but my response does finally convince him to stop. And after taking a quick jog around the immediate area, which I can only assume he did to confirm that no one was following us, which I could have told him if he'd bothered to ask, he trots over to join me in the nearly nonexistent shade of a small tree.

"Feeling better?"

"No, Kylon. I'm not."

"What's wrong?"

"How about damn near everything?"

"Don't you think that answer is a little dramatic, Annalee?"

"Maybe it is. But if there's ever been a time in my life for this kind of over the top drama, this is it.

"I mean, what are we doing? Where are we going?"

"Come on Annalee. You know the answers to those questions.

"What we're doing is running away from the careers. And where we're going is someplace that they aren't and that they wouldn't normally think to look for us."

"And that's a decent plan, Kylon. But it lacks very important specifics.

"I mean, how far away from the cornucopia is far enough for us to be safe? What are we looking for in a hiding spot? Do you have any idea? Because I don't!"

OK, so there's no way for me to be entirely sure about this, but based on the look currently plastered on Kylon's face, this is the first time he's stopped to think about any of the questions I just asked him. Which, as much as I hate to admit it, is somehow just as amusing to me right now as it is stupidly infuriating.

"I mean, I just sort of assumed that you were the one thinking about that kind of stuff, Annalee.

"After all, you're the big-picture person in this alliance, not me."

"That's the thing though, Kylon. We both have to be big-picture people if this alliance is going to work.

"I mean, I'm the one who's been following you for the better part of the last half an hour, so I kind of had to assume that you had some sort of idea what it was that you were looking for.

"Or at the very least that you would stop and ask me what to do next after we had put enough distance between us and the bloodbath."

"You're right.

"I messed this up, and I'm sorry. I was just so preoccupied with getting away from the careers and finding someplace safe to lie low that I didn't stop to think about just what that place might be. And for that, I apologize."

"You don't have to apologize to me, Kylon. Not for this."

"Yes I do."

"Why?"

"Because I'd hate to lose you as an ally over something this stupid."

"That's not going to happen and you know it."

"Good… Because I don't… Oh, never mind...

"What do we do next?"

"I'm not… Wait a second...

"Do you remember that burnt out old shack looking thing we passed a while back? The one with all the trees around it?"

"Um… Sort of?"

"Well trust me, it's there.

"And I'm pretty sure that I saw a well and a cellar door in the backyard as we zipped past it."

"How did you manage to see any of that?

"I mean, we literally zipped by that place in less than two seconds. Which is hardly enough time to even register that it's there. Let alone remember something as specific as a well or a cellar door."

"Correction, you zipped through that area in less than two seconds. It took me something like ten or so to trot past it."

"Fair enough.

"But why would we want to go back there. I mean, it's sort of in the wrong direction if we're looking to put as much distance between us and the careers."

"Because we can't run forever. Eventually, we're going to have to stop and rest. And when we do, I think it would be a good idea to do so in a place that can provide us with both water and shelter.

"Or at the very least shelter that's within a reasonable walking distance from the water tower we passed a while back."

"Well, when you put it that way..."

* * *

 **Ives Dusket-18 (D7M)**

Why did it have to put us in a freaking desert? I mean seriously, they could have dropped me in the middle of a forest, they could have tossed me into the heart of a jungle, they even could have bounced me into the side of a snowdrift in an ice-covered tundra and I would have been just fine. But no, they just had to go and throw me into a freaking desert.

Hell, the only saving grace of this sand-covered heat box, and I use the word saving in the absolute loosest possible sense that I can, is that I ran by a decent number of trees in the forty or so minutes that I've been in the arena. Or at the very least, I ran by a bunch of small, sickly-looking things that I guess someone who's never seen a tree before might mistake for one. Provided they were an idiot.

Not that I'm complaining about the 'trees' mind you. In fact, they've already proven their worth by giving me a pretty good place to hide despite there very un-tree like appearance. All of which makes it possible for me to overlook the fact that the tree I'm currently sitting in, which happens to be the only one big enough to support my weight, provides next to no actual cover and concealment and only a painfully small amount of shade.

But, on the flip side, it does provide some shade. Which I can take advantage of as long as I'm willing to continually twist and contort my body into the increasingly small and ever-moving sections of the tree that the shade covers.

Which, as I knew it would, makes it kind of hard for me to sit here and sort through the disappointingly meager, though still incredibly useful, contents of the brown leather satchel I picked up as I was fleeing the bloodbath.

But I'll find a way to make do.

"OK, it looks like I've got a waterskin full of water, a book of matches, a thermal blanket, a pocket knife, a small pot, and a bottle of water purifying iodine pills.

"Not bad."

I'm not kidding about that either.

I mean, would I have preferred to have a weapon that I'm a bit more comfortable using? Like, say, an ax? Of course, I would. But the fact that I have one at all is a freaking miracle. So I'm not going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

The same goes for my food and water situation. Because while it could be better, you know, if I had some actual food. It still isn't a total loss because I do have water, something to hold it in, and a way to purify more should I need to. All of which is going to be vital to my survival in an arena as hot, dry, and dusty as this one has been up to this point.

Couple all of that with the fact that I'm sure I'll be able to find a use or two for my new thermal space blanket and the matches at some point. And I can't help but feel like I'm in a pretty darn good position all things considered.

Especially since I didn't put nearly as much time and effort into getting myself ready for the Games as I know that I should have.

"I just wish it wasn't so freaking sunny and hot out here.

"I mean seriously, I would kill for a couple of random clouds to float by right about now. And don't even get me started on what I'd do for an honest to god rainstorm.

* * *

 **Isabelle Price-18 (D1F)**

Part of me still can't believe that I killed Bijou. I mean sure, my mentor Hank made it abundantly clear that he and a shiton of big money sponsors were expecting me to kill him. Hank because he didn't want to give Bijou the chance to sully the reputation of our district any more than he already had. And the sponsors because Hank spent three days telling them that I was just as disgusted with Bijou as he was and planned to make killing him my number one priority.

But there's a fine line between being told or expected to do something, and going out and doing it. Especially when it comes to something as permanent and irreversible as killing someone. And I learned that first hand as I stood there and watched in fascination horror as my knife lodged itself in the side of Bijou's skull, ending his life in the blink of an eye and making me sick to my stomach.

Hell, the only reason I didn't throw up as I stood there and watched Bijou's lifeblood ooze out around the edge of my blade, is because I knew it would undo all the good my killing Bijou had done for me. And as much as I hate to admit this, I have to worry about that kind of stupid stuff right now. Because if I don't, I'm not going to make it out of this mess alive. And now that Bijou is dead, I can make surviving my top priority. Even if that means I have to continue to do a bunch of stuff that I not only don't want to do but detest having to even think about.

You know, like pretending to be happy that I finally have blood on my hands. Or taking charge of and leading an alliance full of people who are genuinely excited about having blood on their hands.

"Hey, are you doing OK in here?"

Speaking of which...

"I'm fine, Sandor."

"You sure?

" I mean, I'm no mind reader. But the look on your face doesn't exactly scream 'I'm fine' if you know what I mean."

"Oh, I know what you mean.

"But I have a perfectly good explanation for why my face looked the way it did when you first walked into the cornucopia."

"And that explanation is..?"

"None of your damn business, Sandor.

"So, can I take your presence here as an indication that you and the others are done taking stock of the non-cornucopia supplies? Or did you just come in here to get out of the sun and bug me instead of doing your job?"

"They're just about done."

"Just about done isn't the same things as done Sandor."

"I know that. Just because I'm good looking doesn't mean I'm an idiot, Isabelle."

"The second part is still up for debate in my book. But more importantly, if you know that almost done isn't the same thing as done, why in the hell are you here bugging me instead of out there doing your job?!"

"Because my job is to supervise and I've done all I can on that front.

"I've got Bacchus gathering up the bags, I've got Pearl sorting through their contents, and I've got Piper field stripping the corpses for anything of use."

"Did you make sure to use nothing but small, easy to understand, one-syllable words when you were telling Piper what to do?"

"I did exactly what you told me to do.

"And I have to say, she did not respond well to being talked down to in what she called an insulting and derogatory manner."

"Well, until she proves she's capable of understanding and following simple fucking commands she's going to continue to be treated like the idiot she's proven to be up to this point."

"I agree. But I can't help but worry that treating her like this might end up causing some problems for us going forward.

"You know, what with how proud Piper is as a person and all that."

"It's her pride that got her into this mess in the first place.

"Hell, the only reason it hasn't gotten her killed yet is that I can't afford to have my alliance be down two members less than a day into the freaking games."

If the confused look on his face is any indication Sandor doesn't have the slightest idea how to respond to my last statement. And if I'm being honest with myself, that's not necessarily a bad thing for me at this particular point in time. Because I don't have the slightest idea what else I could say on the Piper topic that I haven't said at least once already.

And fortunately for me, it doesn't look like I'm going to have to come up with anything either. At least not if the look of defeat on Sandor's face is any indication of what he's planning to do next that is.

"Well, I guess that's all that needs to be said about that.

"So, do you want me to head back out and keep an eye on the others until they're done?"

"I don't think that's necessary.

"Bacchus and Pearl are more than capable of doing their jobs without being babysat and I feel like we've embarrassed Piper enough that she'll fall back in line.

"Besides, I could use some help sorting through all the crap in here…"

* * *

 **Reid Stitchell-16 (D6F)**

I don't know how much longer I can listen to Julie complain about how tired she is or how much her feet hurt. I understand that her feet hurt because all of our feet hurt. And I get that she's tired because all of us are tired. But you don't hear us whining about it like she is.

Seriously, except for the fifteen or so minutes between us leaving the cornucopia and sitting down to take our first break, she's done nothing but complain. And it is starting to get on my nerves. Because as the oldest member and de facto leader of our little alliance I'm the one she's directing most of her complaints too. And there's nothing I can do about any of them.

"Reid?! How much longer do we have to walk?!"

"As long as it takes us to find a safe place to spend the night, Julie."

"But where is the safe place we're looking for?!"

"I don't know. That's why we're looking for it instead of going to it."

"I don't…"

"She hasn't found it yet, Julie. That's why we're still walking around. We need to find a place where the bad people from the bloodbath won't be able to find us."

"Oh, that makes sense.

"Thank you, Dessa!"

Oh for the love of, I've been saying the same thing for the last two hours and Julie never even tried to understand what I was telling her. Then Dessa jumps in and says the same thing I've said half a hundred times and just got done saying, and all of a sudden she gets it?! I mean come on kid. Is she trying to drive me nuts or is that just a byproduct of her childlike stupidity?!

"Hey, Reid, can I talk to you for a second?"

"Is it important, Saralee? Because if it's not I'd rather you wait until we find a place to lie low for the night before talking if it's all the same to you."

"I mean, it's not life and death or anything, but it might be important to what we're doing right now."

"Alright. Go ahead and ask then.

"But I can't promise that I'll answer or that you'll like it if I do."

"I'm not worried about liking the answer at this point. I didn't like most of your answers during the bloodbath and look how that turned out in the end."

"Fair enough.

"Go ahead and ask your question then."

"OK.

"Don't you think it's time we give up on finding the 'perfect' place to hide and just settle on an acceptable place? At least for the night?"

"Oh for the love of. Not you too, Saralee.

"You're the only other person in this group with her head on straight and I thought I could count on you to understand what I'm trying to do."

"I do understand what you're trying to do.

"I'm just thinking about what's best for everyone right now as opposed to what's best for us in the long run."

"And you don't think that's a bad idea?"

"Of course I do. If it were up to me we wouldn't stop walking until we hit the far edge of the arena. But it's not just up to me. And we have to take what's best for the whole group into account when making decisions."

I hate to admit this, but she does have a point. We're going to have to stop at some point and rest for the night. And while I would prefer to wait until we find the perfect place to do so, I don't think that's going to be an option. Especially since Julie is already both dragging ass and annoying the crap out of me with her constant stupid questions and requests to stop and rest.

"You're right. I hate to admit that but you are."

"I am?"

"Of course you are.

"So, where do you think we should go? We're not exactly close to anything nice looking, and I'm not too keen on the idea of heading into the town proper unless we have too."

"I'm not sure. I was kind of hoping you'd have an idea or two."

Oh for the love of…

"Well, I don't have one right now.

"So I guess the only option we have is to keep sneaking around here on the outskirts of town and hope that at some point we stumble across something we can make work for the night."

"That's not much of a plan, is it?"

Tell me about it...

* * *

 **Cliff Roseo-17 (D5M)**

I wish Tartarus would calm down. I mean, I get that he's pissed about what happened to Bijou, I am too. But there's a fine line between understandable anger and blind rage. And he blew past that point so long ago that I don't think he and it are on the same planet anymore. And that scares the ever-loving shit out of me.

"I've got to find a way to make her pay for this. But how..? HOW..?"

"Would you please calm down, Tartarus?

"Look, I know you're upset about what happened. But you're not thinking clearly right now."

"Oh, I'm thinking clearly, Cliff.

"In fact, this might be the clearest my thinking has ever been."

"That's not clarity, Tartarus. It's anger. You're letting the anger do all of the talking and you know it."

"Maybe I am. But so what?"

"That can't… That can't be a serious question."

"Why not?"

"Because you and I both know that going after Isabelle and the other careers right now isn't just a bad idea, it's the single worst idea in the long sad history of bad ideas. Hell, it's tantamount to suicide."

"And?"

"And I'm not in the mood to watch you throw your life away chasing revenge. Especially since the odds are pretty good that you'll die long before you get it."

"None of that matters to me, Cliff. All I care about is making Isabelle pay for what she did to Bijou. I have to make her pay for what she did."

"Even if doing so means rendering Bijou's heroic sacrifice completely meaningless?"

"What the hell are you talking about?

"How can taking revenge on Bijou's killer possibly make his sacrifice 'meaningless'?"

"You're not even PRETENDING to pay attention to what I'm saying anymore Are you?"

"Of course I am.

"That's how I know that nothing you've been saying makes any freaking sense."

"No, it makes perfect sense. You just don't want to admit it because doing so would A, force you to face the fact that your blood lust has blinded you to common sense. And B, accept that you're on the verge of throwing away the second chance that Bijou gave his life to give you because you don't feel worthy of his...

"Oh my god. That's it, isn't it? You don't feel worthy of Bijou's sacrifice. That's why you're hell-bent on getting yourself killed trying to take down Isabelle."

"Of course I don't feel worthy of his sacrifice.

"How could I?"

"That's not a question I can answer for you, Tartarus.

"But I do know that you're not going to find the answer to that question on the death-dealing end of a careers weapon."

"Then where will I find it?"

"I can't answer that question for you either."

"I see. And are there any questions you can answer for me?"

"A few. But my willingness to do so depends on how you answer my next question."

"Which is?"

"Which of the two options before you are you going to take?

"Are you going to stay here with me and try to come up with a sensible plan to help one of us gain the ultimate revenge by outlasting the careers and winning the games? Or are you going to let your rage and guilt get the better of you and run off and try to commit suicide by career?

"If you're going to do the former, I'll answer any question you ask me to the best of my ability. But if you decide to run off and pick the latter, then this is the last conversation you and I will ever have.

"Because I can't. I won't. Stand by and watch while you destroy yourself. I've already watched one of my allies die. I won't watch another…"

* * *

 **A/N: I don't really have much to say here except I hope everyone enjoys the update and is having as much fun in the arena as all the tributes are :D Thanks for being so amazing and joining me on this adventure and I hope to see all of your happy faces at the next update :D**


	35. Mistakes(Day 1 Part 3)

**Pearl Caspian-16 (D4F)**

I don't know how much longer I'm going to be able to put up with Isabelle's bullshit. I mean, it was one thing for her to be an overly demanding and power-hungry bitch during training because I could just roll my eyes and tune her out. But I can't do that in the arena, and that means she and her little act are going to get on my damn nerves.

And that's exactly what it is with her, an act! I mean, you'd have to be a total moron not to see right through the game she's trying to play. Especially after the way she's been playing up that whole devoted fiancée who has to win the Games to prove she's worthy of marrying "the man of her dreams" angle. As well as the bossy bitch who will do anything she has to do to win angle.

Then again, it's not like I actually care WHY she's being a bitch. Because it doesn't matter at the end of the day. The only things that do matter are A, the fact that she is being a bitch; and B, two of my other three allies, in this case, Sandor and Bacchus, are going out of their way to let her be a bitch. Both of which should make it that much easier for me to strike out on my own once this alliance has finally run its course. It might even make it that much easier for me to kill one or all of them should I have to.

But I can worry about that once the time comes, even if it ends up coming as soon as tomorrow morning. Because right now, I have more "important" things to be doing. Like getting myself ready to sit outside the mouth of the cornucopia and stare up at the artificial night sky with Piper on the first shift of watch.

"Hey, you ready for the party, Pearl?"

Speak of the devil.

"Oh, you know that I'm ready.

"I mean, how could I not be? What with having all of five minutes to digest the fact that I get to spend most of my night staring out at nothing thanks to Isabelle and Sandor."

"Oh, you don't sound bitter about this at all."

"That's good. Because I would hate for Isabelle and Sandor to think that I'm anything but grateful that they planned all of this out without any input from the rest of us."

"Oh, you don't have to worry about that.

"I mean, even if you were the least bit miffed about what they did, the only aura you're putting off right now is one of happiness and gratitude."

I'm not sure which one of us it is that crack first, and in all reality, there's a decent chance that we may have cracked at the same time. But the important thing to remember here is that we both do eventually crack and start to laugh and smile. Add while this much-needed moment of emotional release is all too short for my liking, it does wonders for my general mood.

It doesn't do a freaking thing to offset how pissed I am at Isabelle and to a lesser extent Sandor. But I sort of feel like it would have been an honest to god miracle if it actually had.

"Oh, you have no idea how much I needed that. Thank you, Pearl."

"Don't mention it.

"So, should we stop procrastinating and head up front? Or should we wait around and see if we can get Isabelle to blow a gasket first?"

"You know I'm tempted to go with the latter of those options. I really am."

"Oh, I'm sure you are. And in all honesty, I'd enjoy seeing it just as much as you would.

"But…"

"But we better not.

"After all, it's our own damn fault that we got stuck on watch in the first place. If we'd just been a little bit more competent during the bloodbath, Isabelle wouldn't have had to punish us like this."

"You took the words right out of my mouth.

"Shall we?"

* * *

 **Tartarus Katsaros-17 (D2F)**

I still don't understand how it's possible for Cliff to not be just as angry about what happened to Bijou as I am. He's done everything he possibly can to explain it to me, and some of his reasons do make a strange sort of sense when I look at them in a vacuüm.

The only problem with that is Bijou didn't die in a vacuüm, he died in real life, he died making sure that Cliff and I had a chance to escape from the careers. And as a result, I flat-out refuse to look at anything related to his death in a vacuüm.

Of course, if I'm being honest with myself that last part is what is making it so hard for me to understand and accept how Cliff is dealing with what happened. I just can't wrap my head around him just accepting what happened and moving on as if nothing has changed. Especially since he's gone out of his way to remind me that both of us should be grateful that Bijou did what he did.

Which only makes it that much harder for me to get a solid read on him. One second he's talking about how both of us owe Bijou for making such a heroic and selfless sacrifice. And the next he's going on about how we can't let what he did change our game plan. Which are such wildly incompatible and contradictory concepts that it physically hurts my brain to even think about them.

And don't even get me started on how stupidly annoying and pointless it is for me to even think about trying to wrap my head around how easy it seems to be for him to bounce back and forth between those two extremes. Because at this point I'm pretty freaking sure that my brain will explode if I keep trying to make heads or tails of that shit.

Then again, it's not like how Cliff is managing to do all of these mental gymnastics matters to me. I may be stupidly and unnecessarily annoyed by them. But I refuse to let my annoyance stop me from doing the things that need to be done for me to pay the proper respect to Bijou's memory and the heroic sacrifice he made for me. I just flat-out refuse to let that happen.

And that means my "alliance" with Cliff, which at one point during training I honestly believed would be vital to my chances of winning, is already living on borrowed time. And I'm not just saying that because he's already proved to me that he has zero interest in making the bitch that killed my best friend like it was nothing, like he was nothing, pay for what she did.

I mean, that is a big part of it, don't get me wrong. Hell, it might even be the single biggest part. But it's not the only part. And for me to pretend otherwise would require me to lie to myself and to flat-out ignore just how important I've come to realize Bijou was to not only me, but to the alliance as well. Because now that he's gone, I can feel myself starting to lose control and the alliance is all but in tatters. And I don't know where in the hell to even start with fixing the latter and I'm honestly not all that sure I want to fix the former.

I mean, part of me wants to lose control. It wants me to stop listening to or worrying about Cliff and just run off and hunt down Isabelle and the other careers like the rabid dogs they are. And if I happen to die before I manage to do so then at least I can die knowing that I did everything I could to make Isabelle and the others pay for what they've done.

But I know that I can't do that. This just isn't the right time or the right place for me to be running off alone like an idiot in search of payback. Especially since I do sort of feel like I owe it to Cliff to at least try to make this alliance work for as long as I can; and to Bijou to do everything I can to make sure that I'm the last one standing once all is said and done.

So for now, as much as I don't want too, I'll just have to suck it up and bury my anger deep down inside of me where no one can see it until the time is right. Though I can't guarantee that I'll be able to do so if things go sideways and I run into Isabelle or one of her lackeys before that right time comes...

* * *

 **Ash Colton-18 (D12M)**

I'm pretty sure the gash on my arm is freaking infected. I mean, I'm not an expert on infections or anything like that. But I've had more than enough gashes on my back, arms, and legs that ended up getting infected for one stupid reason or another to know what an infected gash feels. The fact that I can see and smell the infection and pus that's oozing out of the wound every time I look down at it only makes it that much easier for me to know for sure that it really is infected.

The fact that I'm not sure how it got infected in the first place. You know, since I made a concerted effort to clean it as soon as I had the chance and have gone out of my way to keep it as clean as I can since. Is neither here nor there.

Or at least it would be if it didn't feel like the lower third of my arm was on freaking fire and I had managed to score some semi-decent supplies for my trouble. But it does and I didn't. So all of that "it's neither here nor there crap" doesn't apply. You know, I'm sort of required to sit here and second guess the asinine decisions I made that left me with a massive pus-filled gash on my arm that burns like no one's business and a bag full of useless shit.

OK, so that last part isn't entirely accurate. Not ALL of my supplies are useless. Just MOST of them.

I mean, I did manage to score a knife, a sleeping bag, a metal canteen full of water, a huge pack of assorted jerkies, and some dried apricot slices. But the rest of the stuff I got really is garbage. With the most useful of the lot being a collection of three different colored extra-small rain slickers and a flashlight without a bulb or batteries.

I mean, I guess there's a chance I might find a use for the slickers or the flashlight at some point, but I highly doubt it. And since the majority of the crap I have is even less likely to be useful than that stuff is, I'm having a hard time feeling like what I gained was actually worth what I lost to get it. And not just because the burning in my arm feels like it's starting to seep into my fingers and wrist.

I mean seriously, what good will any of this crap do me if the infection in my arm kills me..?

Then again, I guess there's no use in worrying about any of that now. I mean, if this cut ends up being fatal, then it ends up being fatal. And no amount of pissing and moaning is going to change that. Unless it somehow manages to magically convince a couple of sponsors to send me some antibiotics and a crapload of bandages that is.

Of course, that's not going to happen and I know it. So there really isn't a good or useful reason for me to sit here and silently bitch about my stupidity when I could be doing something more constructive with my time. Like trying to will myself to fall asleep despite the searing pain in my arm...

* * *

 **Iridessa Parks-14 (D3F)**

I didn't think Julie was ever going to go to sleep. I mean, I get that she's afraid of everything that's going on, I am too. It all happened so fast and that can be hard for anyone, let alone someone as young and naïve as Julie, to adapt too. Especially when they don't have anyone they feel like they can trust to turn too. So I can sort of understand why she just had to sit there in the corner by herself and cry herself to sleep.

But that doesn't mean I didn't feel a rush of happiness swell up and wash over me almost as soon as she finally fell asleep and her quiet sobs were replaced by even quieter snores. The fact that I now feel like one of the most horrible people in the entire world because I was happy that she finally cried herself to sleep. Is neither here nor there.

The important thing is she's asleep. Because she's going to need as much of that as she can get if she's going to make it through the next couple of days. Especially if Reid decides to keep her promise and get us up at the buttcrack of dawn so we can, as she put it before laying down and going to sleep herself, continue our search for the most perfect hiding place possible.

Speaking of which, it might be a good idea for me to try to get some sleep too. You know since I'm pretty sure Reid is going to wake us up super early so we can continue to wander around the arena like dumbos without a clue where we're going.

So that's exactly what I try to do.

And for a few seconds, it feels like I might get to sleep for a little bit. I've only just laid down and closed my eyes when I'm very suddenly and meanly shaken awake by a very excited looking Reid.

"Hey, Dessa, are you still awake?"

"Well if I wasn't I am now!"

"Right. Sorry.

"I just knew that you were having trouble sleeping earlier and wanted to make sure you were out before I did anything."

"Well, I'm obviously not a…

"What do you mean you wanted to make sure I was out before you did anything? What are you going to do?"

She doesn't answer my question. And before I have the chance to ask it again, or make any sort of noise at all, she flashes me a very amused and self-satisfied looking smile before jumping on top of me and dropping down hard on my tummy, driving every last drop of the air out of my body. From there it only takes her a second or two to reposition herself before she leans in and starts to choke me, pausing just long enough to lean in and whisper in my ear.

"I'm sorry I had to do this. I would have preferred to just tie you up and gag you like I did Julie and Saralee.

"But you were still awake…"

I don't respond to what she says, not that I could have responded with her sitting on my tummy and her hands wrapped around my throat. Instead, I decide to start squirming and flailing around under her like a fish out of water in what I hope will be a successful attempt to throw her off me so I can escape. Which ends up working just about as well as you might expect it would.

"STOP STRUGGLING DESSA!

"I DON'T WANT TO HURT YOU, BUT IF YOU DON'T STOP TRYING TO ESCAPE I'M GOING TO HAVE TOO."

At this point, I'm not sure how anything else she could do to me could be worse than being slowly choked to death. So I just keep squirming and flailing with all my might even though my lungs feel like they're about to explode. And this time it works.

Reid loses her balance, giving me the chance to slip my hands out from between her legs and my body and pry her hands off my throat. Giving me a couple of precious seconds to suck down as much air as I can before she recovers and restarts trying to choke me again.

The only problem is, she doesn't try to choke me again. Instead, she jumps up and screams at the top of her lungs in frustration before looking down at me and screaming.

"IF THAT'S HOW YOU WANT TO DO THIS THAT'S FINE!"

The next thing I know she's pulling her leg back and kicking me as hard as she can in the side of the head. Knocking me out cold before my eyes and brain ever have the chance to warn the rest of my body that the kick is coming...

* * *

 **Nira Valli-18 (D5F)**

I still can't believe that I made it through the night. It took every ounce of strength I had and then some for me to survive the bone-chilling cold, but I did it. The fact that I also ended up with some pretty nasty looking frostbite on my chest, hands, and the tip of my nose, will make for a great story in the future.

Of course that last part might never have happened if I'd been smart enough to find a slightly warmer place to hunker down for the night than the swiss cheese looking mining cart I found laying in the middle of nowhere that I ended up with. Or at the very least had taken off my sweat-soaked clothes once the sun went down and the temperature started to bottom out. Both of which were the two most important, or at the very least most often repeated, things the trainer at the cold weather survival station forced me to learn.

I also passed on getting supplies and left my only ally to die in the bloodbath by deciding to run as far away from the fighting as I could as soon as I had the chance. Which was both short-sighted and stupid on its own, but when combined with the other stuff I mentioned becomes a surefire recipe for disaster.

Then again, there's a pretty good chance that I could have done everything I just mentioned and still ended up where I am now.

It was so cold outside last night that I could have been inside a house, wearing clothes that had never been wet and still ended up with frostbite on my chest, hands, and nose. Which also means that there's a pretty good chance I would have frozen to death if I'd been stupid enough to take off my clothes. And don't get me started on how there's no way for me to know for sure that having Cora and or a bag of cornucopia supplies would have made the slightest bit of difference.

Especially since, and I can't stress the importance of this enough, I did make it through the night. Despite being so cold that I lost the feeling in my hands and feet hours ago. And so exhausted that I have to fight harder than I've ever fought in my entire life just to keep my mind clear and my eyes open. I made it through the night.

And that makes everything I had to suffer through last night worth it. Because it put me in a position to sit here and watch happily as the faint outline of the sun struggles to rise in the east. And in a few minutes, it will have put me in a position to bask in the warmth of the sun's golden-colored rays as they drive out the last lingering vestiges of the cold and breath life back into my body.

I just have to keep my eyes open for a few more minutes. Just a … A few … A few more … Minutes …

….BOOM….

* * *

 **A/N: And that, my friends, is the end of day 1. Full steam ahead to day 2!**

 **Death Order/Cause**

24- Quills Danelhayr-17 (D9M) - Head repeadly bashed into Pearl's pedestal.

23- Lexy Bloom-17 (D11F) - Strangled by Ash with his bare.

22- Cora Arrowood-16 (D12F) - Stabbed in the gut by Sandor before having her throat slit.

21- Mazeem Law-14 (D10M) - Beheaded by a machete wielding Piper.

20- Axel Bishop-16 (D6M) - Axed in the back by Tartarus.

19- Bijou Devon-17 (D1M) - Killed by Isabelle with a throwing knife.

18- Euonymus Flax-18 (D11M) - Killed by Pearl with a spear through the heart.

17- Joss Stellan-16 (D3M) - Speared in the back and then curb stomped by Sandor.

16- Nira Valli-18 (D5F) - Died from hypothermia

 **Kill Total**

Pearl = 2

Sandor = 2

Ash = 1

Isabelle = 1

Piper = 1

Tartarus = 1

Arena = 1


End file.
